He nodded, studying her face for a long moment. He swallowed away some emotion she couldn’t identify and then gazed at her with a look that make her insides melt like ice cream in the summer sun. “You’re making it almost impossible for me not to fall for you, Tina Marie. You know that, right?”
She felt heat rush to her face. “We barely know each other. But we’re sort of friends now, aren’t we?”
“Of course we’re friends. And more than ‘sort of,’ by the way. But I was listening to what you told your aunt before we left. That you could learn a lot about a guy at a book-club meeting or at a bar. Let’s just say that I’m able to learn a lot about a lady in those places, too.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Excellent. Then you’ve already guessed that we’re the kind of friends who’ll be getting separate rooms at that motel tonight, right?”
He wrinkled his nose dramatically. “Yeah, but a man can fantasize, can’t he?”
She blushed some more and tried to shake off the desire that was shadowing her every thought about Trevor. That they were mutually attracted to each other was an acknowledged given. That she wanted him to kiss her again was a certainty. But anything beyond that would just be setting herself up for near-future disappointment. Learning to value herself and her dreams after David’s betrayal had been a hard-won lesson, but she’d mastered it at last. She wasn’t going to lead Trevor on...or be led on by him.
Then again, maybe a hot fling with a beautiful man wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. No one would be leading on the other one if they both just agreed that a road-trip quickie was all this was, right?
Trevor shot her one of his irresistible smiles. Could he read her mind?
But he simply said, “Let’s go see if we can get those separate rooms.” Then he nodded toward the parking lot and at the sheets of rain that would give them yet another shower before they were able to get to her car.
~*~
Trevor was biding his time.
Thankfully, the motel Tina Marie spotted had available rooms for tonight, and they were able to get two with an adjoining door. But, however clearly he might remember Tina Marie’s passionate kiss from the night before, he knew better than to make a move on a woman who was determined to be “just friends.” She’d have to come to him first. Which meant he had to be so damn appealing that she couldn’t resist. How to ensure that?
Obviously, he needed expert advice. And he knew just where to get it.
When Tina was getting settled into her motel room, he used the time to quickly unpack, change into a dry shirt, brush his teeth and gargle (a guy’s breath could never be too fresh), and text his buddy, Blake Michaelsen.
“Got a sec to answer a few questions?” he typed.
Less than fifteen seconds later, his phone buzzed. “Yeah, shoot,” came his friend’s reply.
Blake was a popular DJ back home in Mirabelle Harbor. He worked at 102.5 “LOVE” FM and spent most of his days—and occasionally some nights—spinning romantic hits for the masses. Let’s just say, Blake hadn’t been a big believer in love. At least not until he got his heart all tangled up with high-school French teacher Vicky Bernier this past fall. Now the dude was singing a very different tune.
“Okay. So, there’s this woman I met. She’s gorgeous. She’s sweet. We’ve got amazing chemistry, and we’re at a hotel tonight,” he began, sending this first part to Blake.
Before he could write out his question, his friend texted back, “If you’re in a hotel with her, what the hell are you doing texting me? Priorities, man.”
“She and I live in different cities, Blake. She says she wants to be just friends, which I hate but understand. No way could this be anything but a fling... Still, I want her. Even if it’s just for tonight. How do I get her to want to stay with me while being honest about it?”
This time there was a longer pause. Finally, his buddy replied. “One word: Foreplay.”
Trevor groaned. “Yeah, no shit, Blake. I’m not 14. I mean, what’s the fastest, most effective kind?”
“Dancing, or any excuse you have to touch her in a socially acceptable fashion. Food, as in feeding it to her. Attentive listening, which I suck at, but Vicky tells me that’s an aphrodisiac for a lot of women.”
Trevor grinned. Yeah, Blake was more of a talker than a listener, and he could beat the crap out of any guy that pissed him off, but love agreed with him. His roughest edges had been smoothed a bit, thanks to Vicky.
“Oh!” Blake added. “You might try a movie. Action thrillers boost adrenaline and can be a turn-on for both sexes. Just read a nonfiction bestseller about that. So, check the TV listings.”
There was a knock on Trevor’s interior door. Tina Marie.
“Good ideas, man,” he texted Blake back. “Thanks. Gotta go.” Then he opened the connecting door for her and caught his breath at the sight.
Gone was the thin summer dress with the yellow translucent fabric, and in its place was a hip-hugging pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved baby-blue shirt that caressed her chest and clung to every curve. He wanted to pull her into his arms and strip off both items, along with anything she might have on underneath. But, first, he had to convince her to say yes to that plan.
“Are you okay?” she asked, which was a fair question, given that he must be gaping at her like a scary, mouth-breathing perv.
“Yep,” he replied. He ushered her in. “I was just about to check what’s on TV tonight. We could see a movie, if you’d like.”
She nodded, and they flipped channels until they came to some international spy flick that was just starting. Seemed action-packed enough, but would it work its adrenaline magic on her?
A half hour into the movie, Blake had no freakin’ idea what the plot was, but he was so amped up from being right next to Tina on the bed that he could barely sit still.
“Hey, want me to grab us some vending machine snacks and sodas?” he suggested.
She smiled at him, and he got hard as granite in under five seconds.
“I’m good,” she said. “But go ahead if you want something.”
He wanted something all right. It did not come from a vending machine, however.
If he didn’t get the hell out of the room for a few minutes, though, he’d never get his body under control.
“Be right back.” He bolted into the hall and wandered around the floor until he found a working machine. He bought a couple of cold Cokes and remembered that there was still half a package of Oreos in the car. She loved those, and he’d managed to feed some of them to her earlier. Maybe she’d let him do it again.
He’d been the last to drive, so he still had her keys. He went to the parking lot, grabbed the snack bag, and jogged a couple of times around the building to burn off some energy. He returned to the room out of breath but marginally less tense.
In his absence, Tina had kicked off her sneakers, lowered the volume on the TV to a murmur, and laid back on his motel bed, her stocking feet dangling off the edge. She looked so tantalizingly beautiful, his mouth went dry. He twisted open one of the Coke bottles and downed half of it.
“Tired?” he asked her, trying not to openly gawk.
“Just relaxing,” she said with a grin. “You were gone a long time.”
Seeing her there reminded him of something extremely important. An inspired brainstorm and an unexpected ace he had yet to play. “Well, I recall making some promises to you this morning when you offered to drive me out here. I’ve gotten you the burger, the cheese fries, and the ice cream. The Oreos, too.” He held up the cookies like a stage prop. “But I owe you some rhyme time to help with your song and a thirty-minute shoulder rub.” He walked toward her. “Those were your terms so, in good conscience, I need to deliver.”
A small grin tugged the corners of her lips upward. “Damn right you do,” she said, flipping from her back to her stomach on the mattress, her deep sigh teasing him to touch her in a way that would make her ache for him half as much as he did f
or her.
He didn’t need more of an invitation than that. He set the snacks down on an end table and knelt beside her on the bed.
Trevor spread his fingers out and pressed them against the soft blue fabric on her back, massaging and kneading her shoulders and upper back until she moaned. He moved his hands slightly lower, pressed slightly deeper. She moaned again.
He bit his lip, desire shooting through him. But he kept the pressure on her muscles steady, circulating, firm, even as he burned up inside. Hearing her moaning from his massage was almost as satisfying as getting her to moan from desire. Not that backrubs could replace lovemaking, but if this brought her more pleasure than frustration, it was worth every second.
He’d lost track of time when, abruptly, Tina’s soft moans stopped and he heard her whisper, “Trev?”
He stilled his hands. “Yes?”
“What rhymes with willing?”
“What?”
She slowly flipped over to face him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes searching his for a reply to a question he hoped he could answer correctly.
“What are a few words that rhyme with the word willing?” she repeated.
He had to look away from her hair, her lips, her body to be able to concentrate. “Um,” he murmured, staring at the watercolor print of a pastoral scene that hung above the motel bed. “Fulfilling. Distilling.”
She reached up and snagged the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to her until their lips were millimeters apart. She touched her mouth to his exactly twice. Once in response to each word?
“What else works?” she asked. “And try to keep it to the same number of syllables.”
He chuckled. “You’ve got rules for this, eh?” Then, “Billing. Milling. Spilling. Drilling.”
She rewarded him with four more light kisses and then smiled. She knew he’d caught on to the game.
“Those words might lend themselves well to a really descriptive and raunchy drinking song,” she said. “Or, alternately, something about oil or dentistry. Perhaps we could try a more romantic theme?”
He grinned. “Okay, I’m in. Give me some new words to work with.”
She nodded. “Let’s go with so charming.”
“Not harming. Disarming.”
Two kisses followed, and they weren’t so short this time.
“Who knew songwriting could be so fun?” he murmured.
“I’ve never done it this way before,” she admitted. “But it’s my new favorite narrative method. Next word is caressed.”
Trevor’s journalist vocabulary kicked into higher gear now that he understood the stakes. He shot back with four rhymed words. “Behest. Undressed. Attest. Confessed.”
Each of the four kisses that came after that blended together with only the shortest of pauses in between. And to add even more encouragement, Tina’s arms snaked around him to draw them closer together. Until his legs brushed her legs. Until his chest was flush against her chest. Until he was the one moaning softly.
“One more,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper that tickled his ear. “But it’s an important one. What rhymes with lost?”
He gave a rapid-fire response. “Crossed. Tossed. Glossed. Frost. Cost.” He paused. “And these are good ones, but they have two syllables each. Exhaust. Embossed.”
“They are good. And you’re brilliant,” she murmured before giving him his prize—a lucky seven set of kisses that were indistinguishable from one long soul kiss, like the one they’d shared in his car last night.
All of him melted into her embrace, his hands unzipping her jeans and inching them halfway down her long legs.
He slid to the mattress, turning her to the side so his fingers would be free to slip beneath the fabric of her panties. Her skin was as hot as his, and she was enticingly wet as he touched her and began a new phase of her massage.
She gasped as he pressed two of his fingertips deeper and rubbed her clit with the pad of his thumb—slow, circular motions—until she called out his name again. This time she didn’t ask him to rhyme anything. But he really liked what she did instead.
He felt her hands exploring his waistband, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his jeans. One by one, she mirrored every single action he’d made on her body, but on his this time. With the pad of her thumb, she slowly circled the tip of his cock. With her fingers, she massaged his shaft, pressing harder and skimming down the full length of him until he was all but vibrating on the mattress. He gripped the bedspread and let her continue this delicious torture until his body couldn’t hold back any longer. Until he let go of the covers beneath them, wrapped his arms tight around her, and heard himself call out her name.
In the breathless silence of the moments that followed, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “What rhymes with losing my sensibilities?”
His eyes were closed, but he felt her smile. “Wow, a phrase and eight syllables at that... How about open to possibilities?”
He rewarded her (and, hell, let’s face it, he rewarded himself) with a kiss that spiked the air temperature ten degrees in under twenty seconds.
He swallowed and reluctantly pulled away. Oxygen, it turned out, was necessary on occasion. Her shaky intake of breath let him know that she was at least moderately affected by him, too. And when she leaned in to kiss him once more—with no rhyming prerequisite on either side—he could feel himself hardening again. How was it possible to want one woman so much? Someone he’d only known for a day and a half?
Trevor knew he was getting attached too quickly. He also knew he shouldn’t push things between them. That their connection was meant to be brief, casual, light. But every part of him—not just his body, his mind and soul, too—wanted so much more with her. More than even his extensive vocabulary was able to express.
When they finally caught their breaths again, he whispered, “Want to write another song, Tina Marie? We could, um, make it a duet this time, instead of two singles.”
She laughed and then blushed. A beautiful sound. A gorgeous sight.
“Maybe we should save some songwriting for tomorrow night.” She refastened her jeans and shimmied off the bed.
He felt the immediate loss of her beside him. Then her words registered and he raised an eyebrow. “You think there’ll be a tomorrow night?”
She straightened her blue shirt, fished for her shoes, and wandered toward the adjoining door. “Yes. In Colorado Springs.” She gazed at him steadily from across the room. “If the roads are clear, we’ll want to leave early. So, we’d both better get some sleep.” And with an enigmatic smile, she said, “Goodnight, Trev,” and walked back to her room.
Oh, baby.
Open to possibilities, indeed.
Chapter Four
The next day, both Mother Nature and a little Good-Luck Fairy must have been on their side because—with the exception of one detour—the roads between their motel and downtown Colorado Springs were passable.
Trevor slid behind the wheel of her car and said, “Babe, let’s hightail it there.”
She rubbed her eyes and nodded, offering to take over driving in an hour, or at least sometime after the tiny bit of caffeine she’d had kicked in. She’d hardly slept after she left Trevor’s room last night. For hours, she kept feeling his fingers on her body, playing her like an expert guitarist would play his instrument. And she was still so turned on by the memory...
Not that she was planning to confess this to him—a man who looked annoyingly well-rested on only five and a half hours of sleep.
Trevor took a long sideways glance at her and laughed. “You look like you need more than one cup of java from that hotel’s mini coffee maker. We can pick up something bigger and stronger at our first rest stop. And something more substantial to eat than cookies, too. I can drive the whole way to Colorado Springs, by the way, so you can put your seat back and relax.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do. I wanna get there on time and may not entirely
follow the posted speed limit.” He grinned at her. “So if there’s a ticket violation in our near future, that’ll be on me.”
And so he drove, and all went as planned. For the first time in a long time, Tina couldn’t help but feel a comforting sense of rightness with where she was and what she was doing. Perhaps her car was headed in the wrong cardinal direction, given her plans to go to Nashville and all, but that would be easy to rectify once Trevor was finished with his interviews.
It was the being by his side part. The laughing with him. The talking with him. And, oh, boy, the touching and making out with him. All of these things just felt so natural.
And even though she knew this fling of theirs wouldn’t last the week, something about Trev helped her restore a little of her faith in men. If she could feel this content in his presence, there might yet be hope for her dented and cynical heart.
They made it through the Colorado Springs city limits with only about twenty minutes to spare before Trevor’s noon meeting, so he dropped her off at a nearby coffee shop and promised he’d text her with updates on his schedule.
“As soon as I have even a one-hour break where I can slip away, I’ll pick you up and we can go to the hotel. I made a reservation downtown, but check-in isn’t until three p.m., so we’ve got a few hours to kill before we can be sure to get in.”
“No problem. I’ve got everything I need here.” She pointed to her notebook for song lyrics, waved her wallet in the air, and then nodded at the outdoor placard announcing at least a dozen different coffee and dining options.
He laughed. “Guess we picked the right place for you.”
She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Good luck, Trev. Go for your story.”
Then she slipped out of the car and watched him drive down the street, silently sending him an extra blessing that he’d get what he needed to write his big feature and wow those editor judges. In any case, she knew he was giving it his best shot, and she was so glad he’d have the opportunity to try. That was all any creative person could ask.
Sapphire FallsGoing For It Page 5