Bad Behavior

by Kristin Hardy

  And she had no objection, at least in theory. Getting naked with him would be all well and good—more like excellent, probably—but only as long as she was driving things. After all, she needed to torment him at least a little for his sins. She couldn’t have him thinking that it was fine to waltz back up with a glance and a smile after dropping her sixteen years before. He needed to work for it, first.

  Or she needed to work him.

  So she headed for the floor without checking to see if he followed.

  The song had her snapping her fingers, nodding her head even before they stepped onto the painted concrete in front of the band. It was crowded enough to force them to dance close, Delaney saw in satisfaction, with enough room to let her move. And move she could. She wasn’t Thea, with years of training, but when the beat got into her, it was the next best thing to sex.

  IT WASN’T THE FLAILING they’d done as kids to Depeche Mode and Jane’s Addiction, Dom thought. Delaney wasn’t a kid anymore and she didn’t dance like one. Hips swinging to the rhythm of the music, counterpointed by her shoulders, she danced like a woman.

  Her arms and hands wove teasing patterns through the air and all he could think of was how she’d look undressing for him, pulling that stretchy green dress up bit by bit, over her hips to her waist to reveal smooth, golden skin. Sliding it up to her breasts and over her head, tossing it aside to come to him, soft and warm and naked. All that, somehow, was suggested by her movements: the abandon, the arousal, the demand.

  The desire.

  He didn’t hear the beat so much as feel it, thumping out of the speakers, pulsing up through the floor, vibrating off her. And then she reached out to put her hands on his shoulders, never missing a step but swaying her own shoulders back and forth so that they were now moving in sync, moving as one.

  Moving with the rhythm of sex.

  Her eyes seemed bigger, darker, filled with adventure. She slid her hands up to run her fingers through his hair so that all his nerve endings came to the alert. And always to the beat, always the sinuous movements of her body that made him think now of how she’d move on top of him, against him. Slowly, eyes wide and staring into his, she let her hands slide down his neck, moving in closer now, hips bumping him, mouth tempting. He felt her fingers trail teasingly over his chest, dipping into the open collar of his shirt then going lower.

  He could feel himself starting to get hard, watching her, feeling her, inhaling the scent of her that rose all around him. He reached for her hips without conscious volition, knowing only that he had to touch her or go crazy. It was all too much, the beat, the motion, the gleam of arousal in her eyes. And he was so absorbed in trying to tame his hard-on that he almost didn’t notice when she slipped her hands up to his shirt buttons, unfastening first one, then the next.

  “Getting a little warm in here, isn’t it?” she said into his ear.

  When she slid her hands inside the fabric, he jolted. A hot flash of triumph flared in her eyes. And he could only stare in that first stunned second as she traced her fingers over his bare skin, over his chest, over the tightening muscles of his belly. He ached to be away from all these people, to have her against him naked, ached to bury himself in her.

  Her fingers dropped to the next button.

  In self-defense, he clamped a hand around her wrist. “That’s good for now,” he rasped, as the song stopped.

  Her laugh was quick and sultry. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m just getting started here.”

  “Outside, then.”

  “What, no bad behavior for a nice private-school boy like you? Come on, Jake, you’ll like it. Stay here and dance with me.” She slid her free hand inside his shirt, her gaze full of temptation, and leaned in until her mouth was right over his. “I dare you.”

  I dare you.

  It had been a staple of their time together, the two of them egging one another on to discover the new, the forbidden, the outrageous.

  I dare you.

  “Outside.” And he turned and led her off the floor, still holding her wrist.

  TIKI TORCHES LIT THE patio outside beach bar, their shadows flickering in the sand. From here, the music and buzz of conversation inside was muted. Palm fronds rattled overhead. Beyond, the waves whispered, lit by the moon that hung above. It was quiet, nearly deserted, the handful of couples populating the patio more interested in each other than anyone else.

  “What’s up?” Delaney asked as Dom released her near a cluster of palm trees on the beach. She’d had to hurry along next to him, rushing out without a word to her friends. She hadn’t protested, though. Instead, irritated with him, she’d gone along for the moment. Irritated at him and irritated at herself.

  Because underneath the irritation was a sneaky flush of arousal.

  “I wasn’t through dancing,” she informed him.

  “You weren’t dancing anymore.”

  “No? What was I doing?”

  “You know what you were doing.” He eyed her. “I’d rather not make a fool of myself on the dance floor.”

  “Now why would you say that, sugar? You dance fine,” she purred, coming closer to him.

  “I’m not talking about dancing and you know it. Whatever happens between us, happens between us,” he said softly. “Not in a crowd of people. I want to be able to concentrate.”

  The mix of heat and arousal in his eyes started tension coiling in her belly. And a sudden, surprising flash of nerves. “What makes you think anything’s going to happen? Maybe you’re assuming a little too much, Mr. Cave Man.” She started to walk past him back into the bar.

  Before she could react, he’d caught her, spun her around to press her back against the trunk of one of the palm trees. “Oh, you think so?” he asked softly, his breath feathering over her lips. He leaned in, his body brushing lightly against hers.

  And she felt the answering tug deep inside her. She could feel the heat of him, human and real and there. His shirt still hung open from where she’d unbuttoned it; in the torchlight, his skin gleamed copper. With his shadowed jaw and unruly hair and black eyes, he looked determined, focused and maybe a little dangerous.

  She moistened her lips. “Let me go.”

  The flames of the torches were reflected in his eyes. “Is that honestly what you want?” He traced the line of her collarbone with his fingertips. “It didn’t seem that way on the dance floor.”

  Delaney shivered. From the first, she’d watched his mouth, fantasizing how it would feel. How would it have changed over the years? How would he have changed? She’d watched him and wondered.

  And wanted.

  Dom stared down at her now, his gaze never wavering, his black eyes deep, dark pools she could drown in. Her heart thudded in her chest as though she’d been sprinting, as though her rib cage had suddenly grown too small to contain it. Abruptly she couldn’t find any air. Everything else receded and all she could see was him, the mesmerizing glint in his eyes as he shifted toward her, the intensity as her lips shuddered apart.

  Too soon, she thought frantically, moving away a fraction. Too much. Too…she didn’t know, confusing. It was the past, it was the present, it was fun and then suddenly all too serious.

  And she needed more time.

  “No,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him.

  But he didn’t step away. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder what it’s like after all this time? You know you do.” His gaze delved into hers. “Come on, Delaney,” he murmured. “Kiss me. I dare you.”

  And with a curse, she dragged his head down to hers.

  4

  IT WAS DIFFERENT, WAS HER first thought. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt with him. Dom had been gentle once, tentative. But that had been years before. Now, he dove into the kiss, feasting on her mouth, each touch and press igniting the demand for more.

  And she dove in headlong after him.

  Heat. Hunger. She nipped at him. Her lips parted, more in demand than in invitation. It wasn’t enou
gh just to touch, she needed to taste. She moaned when his tongue stroked against hers, not the long, leisurely swirls she remembered from before but a tantalizing dart and slide that teased more than it satisfied. And before she’d had anything like enough, he backed off, drawing her lower lip into his mouth.

  It was the same and yet not the same. The last time they’d kissed, he’d been not much more than a boy. Now, he was a man and she could feel the tickle of his beard.

  And she could taste the desire.

  More than that, she could feel the strength in his hands and arms, the hard muscle of his body. He was lean and rangy but she felt the power there, felt the solid width of his back as she wrapped herself around him.

  The kiss stretched out. Time didn’t matter, only the slide of lip against lip, the slick duel of tongues. It seemed extraordinary that just that morning she’d had no idea whether he even still existed, and now she was so desperate for him that she wanted him everywhere at once.

  As though he’d heard her thoughts he shifted to press his lips to her neck as if seeking sustenance. She could only let her head drop back helplessly as his mouth traveled lower, down her throat, into the deep neckline of her dress.

  When she’d kissed him last they’d still been amazed and overwhelmed by the novelty of French kissing, by the pleasure that mouth could give mouth. And later, she recalled, by the startling feel of his hands on her breasts, hot even through the fabric of her shirts.

  Save for that one startling night behind the garage, hidden away, when he’d put his hands under her bra and scared her a little. They’d never gone further than that, though, and things ended soon after.

  She’d wondered about him over the years, wondered how it would have been if she’d capitulated that night. But what could that fourteen-year-old boy have known about making love?

  Now, though, he wasn’t fourteen any more. He’d learned in the intervening years, he’d learned all kinds of tricks. Kissing was no longer an end in and of itself, kissing was the invitation—enough to tantalize, to have the tension curling deep inside her, the demand whispering through her veins.

  She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman who knew what she wanted.

  And what she wanted was him.

  DOM HAD WATCHED HER, FELT her on the dance floor, needed until his system throbbed with it. Now, all he wanted to do was devour the softness of her mouth, feel that willowy body against his, sink into her. And when she growled low in her throat and took the kiss deeper, he felt himself harden.

  She caught his lip between her teeth and bit down, the flash of pain jolting him for a fraction of an instant before the soft slide of her tongue wiped it away. There was addiction in that wide, mobile mouth. There was addiction in the sweet, spicy taste of her. And all he wanted was more.

  He could tell himself he’d approached her because he’d wanted to see her again, wanted to talk with her. But that wasn’t it completely and he knew it because all he really wanted, all he’d wanted from the instant he’d recognized her was this moment of crushing her against him, devouring her mouth with his, rediscovering her taste, her touch, the softness of her lips. Need hammered at him, to have her naked against him, under him, to feel her wet heat as he drove himself into her. He had to have her.

  Now.

  “I think we should—” Then he inhaled sharply as he felt as much as heard his zipper coming down. “What are you doing?”

  Delaney laughed against his lips. “A guy your age, you shouldn’t have to ask that.” And she caught a breath. “Why Jake the Snake, no underwear? A nice private-school boy like you?”

  He’d thought he was already as hard as he could get, but at the first brush of her fingers on his bare cock, he swore he turned into granite. “Stop,” he growled when he could get a breath.

  “Stop?” she repeated, moving her hand. “Why?”

  He was about two seconds away from coming and he didn’t want to waste it like this. “We’re behind a bar, for one thing.”

  “So? We used to make out behind a garage.”

  “Not like this, we didn’t.” She shifted her motion and he swore. “There are people wandering around.”

  “Here?” She glanced at the patio behind them, then slipped her hand in farther. “Those people don’t care what we’re doing. They’re too wrapped up in each other. Besides, isn’t that what vacations are for, a little bad behavior? Come on.” She nibbled on his earlobe. “I dare you.”

  “Stop it.”

  She furled her fingers more tightly around him. “Don’t you like it?” She pouted.

  Oh, he liked it, all right. He liked it enough that he was about ready to drag her off to some dark place, push that dress up around her hips and—

  She leaned into his shoulder, draping herself over his leg, licking his neck. “I like it,” she whispered. “I like feeling you hard. I like knowing that I was the one who got you that way.”

  She’d never touched him like this when they’d been together. If she had, he could pretty well guarantee that he would have lost it. Even now, all these years later it was taking all his control to hold on against the tempting slip of those clever fingers, the feel of her tongue on his skin.

  He slid his hand up over her breast. And when he heard her catch her breath, it was his turn to laugh and still the movement of her wrist. “I think maybe you’d better let me take over,” he said softly, running his hands down over her hips. And slipping one hand stealthily up underneath her short skirt, trailed his fingers over the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She moaned again. He chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah, I think it’s my turn.”

  He leaned down and pleasured himself by ravaging her mouth with his, bringing his fingers up higher beneath the silky fabric she wore under her dress. Only to find her already hot and slick and wet. Pure, unadulterated lust slammed through him.

  There was nothing like this, using his fingers to touch her and intimately feel her body quake, hearing the inarticulate noises she made against his mouth. Knowing he was bringing her pleasure. Knowing he was taking her to the edge.

  And he wanted more. Feeling her wasn’t enough, pressing into one another like the teenagers they’d once been wasn’t enough. He wanted everything, wanted her naked.

  Wanted her now.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered feverishly. “Where are you staying?”

  “Aqua Blue.”

  “I’m at La Hacienda. It’s closer.”

  “You just said the magic words,” she whispered.

  He kissed her hard and then broke away, breathing heavily. “No, the magic words are ‘I have a condom.’”

  She grinned wide and beautiful. “I have lots of them,” she said.

  HIS ROOM WAS DARK, the louvered doors closed. The first thing Delaney did was walk over and open them up wide.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want to hear the ocean.” She went out on the balcony to look down at the darkened beach, the lights of Cozumel beyond. The top of the waist-high wall surrounding the balcony was a planter full of lush tropical ferns. She turned to face Dom, sitting on the edge of the low wall to enjoy the sight of him coming toward her. He’d been a good-looking kid, but that was nothing compared to how he looked as an adult. The soft boyishness was gone from his face, replaced by hard planes, as though the excess had been stripped away to show the man beneath. It showed even in the way he moved, not a swagger, exactly, but a stride of pure confidence, pure focus.

  And she was his focus now.

  It made her shiver as he stopped before her, stood between her parted legs. His shirt gapped open, showing the dip and flow of muscle beneath. Slowly, softly, she traced her fingertips over the corrugations in his belly. It quivered at her touch. His breath hissed in.

  Intentionally taking her time, Delaney reached for his shirt and unfastened the last button, then pushed the garment off his shoulders. Hands shaking just a little, she unfastened his belt buckle. “Time for this to go, I think,” she sai
d as lightly as she could manage and unbuttoned the waistband of the shorts below. “And these.”

  The shorts dropped. His gaze never wavering from hers, he stepped out of the garment and stood there before her, utterly naked and completely gorgeous in the night.

  Her mouth went dry. Mesmerized, she slid down off the balcony edge. “So I guess it’s true what they say about big hands.”

  “Why don’t you get some of your clothes off? It’s hot out here,” he murmured, reaching for the hem of her dress but she moved her hands away.

  “You’re right, it is hot,” she said quickly, sinking down on the chaise lounge tucked in a corner of the balcony. “And I bet it’s going to get hotter.”

  She’d never actually seen him when they’d been kids, never touched him intimately. She’d been in the middle of a memory storm all night, but in this moment, everything was new. This had nothing to do with the Jake she’d known as a boy. This was Dom, the man. He came to her now. And as she nuzzled the silky soft skin of his cock, she knew that this was what she had wanted.

  And oh, he had a beautiful cock, long and thick, standing up stiff and hard. She pointed her tongue and licked the small ridge below the base of his glans.

  He made a little involuntary sound.

  Delaney smiled and did it again, harder this time. Then she licked him from base to tip, stroking that sensitive patch of skin over and over, feeling his cock twitch with her every touch. Tilting her head slightly, she opened her mouth to suck on the shaft so that her lips were half around him, moving her head just to tease him, letting him feel the warm heat on one side and nothing on the other. She held him in place with one hand, slid the other up his back, over the marble-hard cheeks of his ass.

  And she was betting it was a perfect ass, but as hard as it was, it was nothing compared to his cock. Hunger stirred in her and she substituted her hand for her lips, stroking the hard shaft of him as she positioning her mouth over his glans. And then she took him deep and fast.