by Diane Roth
Greg stayed with her this time, finally allowing her to come in a shattering paroxysm of pleasure so powerful it was nearly painful. It threw her head back and drew all her muscles to a tetany of contractions, all pulsing with profound satisfaction.
Greg kissed the tingling skin of her thigh as her pleasure ebbed away, then stood and reached for her bound hands, pulling her to her feet. Still dazed from her powerful orgasm, Cara was hardly aware of what he was doing. But Greg was fully in charge, lying her down on the bed, then pulling her to the edge. He unzipped his pants and loosed his erection, quickly rolled on a condom, then in one swift push, entered her fully, burying himself to the hilt. There was no finesse involved in this pure pumping, driving, primitive search for fulfillment. He pulled Cara's knees up and drove hard, slamming into her again and again until finally, he found his own satisfaction, his breath releasing on a groan.
Somehow they ended up entwined in one another's arms across the middle of the bed, both breathing heavily, Greg still wearing his slacks and sox.
"Am I forgiven?" she whispered, still breathless.
"I'm undecided. Let me think on it some," he murmured exhaustedly into her hair, but he smiled.
"Fine. But you're a taskmaster," she said, just shy of petulant.
He slapped her on the ass, one sharp, smarting smack, and she yelped in response.
"Don't you forget it, girl," he told her, but took the sting away with a warm, caressing palm.
She looped her still bound hands around his neck and burrowed into his chest, kissing and nuzzling like she'd wanted to earlier. "Mmmm, I love your chest."
"Mmmm, I love that you love my chest," he answered. "I'm rather fond of yours myself."
"We're a good team," she told him between kisses pressed to twin muscles above and a six-pack below. "We should do this more often."
"You're damn right, we should," he said firmly, lifting his head off the bed to watch her ministrations to his torso.
She raised her head to look up at him. "I've missed you."
He rolled them over and pushed the hair back from her face. "God, me too. You have no idea how badly I want you some days. I think about you all the time, Cara." His voice was full of desperation and need.
"I know, Greg. I know. I feel the same way," she answered.
He finally kissed her like she'd wanted him to from the moment she entered the room this afternoon, and it made her feel centered and whole. That all was right with her world ... finally after long weeks of want, and this final week of waiting, filled with one niggling problem after another. The kiss lasted and lingered, reacquainted and reunited. So very good.
***
Greg didn't think he'd ever get enough of kissing Cara. He loved everything about kissing her ... her taste, her moaning little sighs, the soft give of her plump lips and the silky goodness of her tongue against his. It was like nourishment, and he'd been damn near starved for it.
He'd be content to stay in this South Beach hotel room all weekend long and love on Cara. It sounded like a great plan to him.
Cara stretched languidly, her joined hands lifted high above her head on the bed, a satisfied smile on her face. "Oh, mercy ... I feel so much better."
Greg chuckled. "In spite of your hands being tied together?"
She looped her arms back over his head and smiled a thoroughly wicked smile at him. "Maybe because of my hands being tied together," she said silkily, then laughed that sexy laugh that got him every single time.
He nuzzled her neck and chuckled with her. "So you were never intimidated, huh?" He pulled back some to look at her.
She wrinkled her nose and nodded quickly. "I have to admit I was a little intimidated. At first, I was irritated, especially when I thought you really were angry with me. But then I figured out your game and I felt differently about it."
He rolled them over and settled himself between her legs, bracing on his elbows so he could see her face. "How did that make you feel then?"
Her expression led him to believe she was feeling a bit shy about their sex play, but she seemed game enough. "It surprised me when you tied me up. You did it so quickly," she said, still awestruck with the thought. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
He grinned at her. "Always was a good Boy Scout."
"I'll say. You earned a badge in knot tying today, little boy," she told him, her eyes twinkling at him.
"Little boy?" he countered, pushing her wrists up over her head and holding them there firmly, then pressed his thickening erection against her hip. "That feel like a boy to you?"
She giggled and wiggled against his hold on her wrists. "No, that does not feel anything close to boyish, I assure you."
He tickled her, scampering fingers down her ribcage and making her squirm beneath him.
"And that would be 'no, Sir', to you, little girl," he said gruffly, looking at her from beneath a dauntingly lowered brow.
She giggle again, then moaned as his mouth found her nipple and tugged sweetly.
"And does that feel like a little girl?" she demanded in kind, though her voice was whispery instead of firm as desire took over again.
"No, ma'am," he said, raising his head only long enough to answer her smartly.
They made love again at a much slower pace, lingering over kisses and soft caresses well into the night, then rose, showered, and ordered a late dinner from room service. Greg couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a room service burger so well, though it probably had more to do with the nearly naked woman dining with him more than anything else.
Cara rose to clean up their meal tray, and Greg watched her, stretching out on the bed and balling up flat hotel pillows until they were comfortable under his head.
"What shall we do tomorrow?" Cara asked, plugging her cell phone in to charge before joining him on the bed. She stretched out beside him on her side and rested her head on her palm. "Beach?"
He considered for a minute, then shook his head slightly, not altogether opposed, but not smitten with the idea either.
"Sight-seeing?" she offered.
He frowned even more deeply at that thought, but didn't answer.
"Well, what do you want to do then?" she asked, though she didn't seem particularly taken with those ideas either.
He rolled over and pulled her closer, his hand palming her bottom. "I wouldn't mind staying right here all weekend. I want to love on you and enjoy being with you. None of that other stuff matters to me at all, babe."
She looked at him, a tenderness in her eyes that lured him like nothing else, drawing the last few months of want and unmet need to a finely measured depth of feeling in him.
"I know," she said. And he thought she might.
He rolled over to his back, drawing her to his side and tucking her closely up under his chin. Her scent, be it shampoo or perfume or whatever it was that made her smell absolutely edible to him, rustled up off her skin, and he breathed it in deeply, savoring it, loving having her in his arms, in the bed with him. He kissed her forehead. "I want to sleep with you ... and I want to wake up with you." He kissed her eyebrow. "And I want to eat breakfast with you, and make love to you again and again and again." His hands made long strokes up and down her back as he spoke. "I want your face to be the first one I see in the morning and the last one I see at night." He rolled them over and raised to his elbow to look her square in the eye. "Your name is the one I want to see when my phone rings." The shape of her eyes changed, dancing with sweet amusement.
"Your voice is the one I want to hear whispering my name in need ... crying my name in release," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper.
By now, he knew Cara had recognized that this had become more than a plan for the weekend. She watched him, that deep tenderness in her eyes enhanced by a soft smile on her beautiful lips. "I want those things, too, Greg."
He studied her for a long moment, memorizing what she looked like the instant he surrendered to knowing that he was in love with her, and she stud
ied him back, though he wasn't certain what was in her mind at the moment, her expression endearing, but giving nothing more away. Tears gathered in her beautiful eyes, and he watched as they clung to the ends of spiky eyelashes, trembling before falling onto her cheeks.
"Why does that make you cry, Cara?"
She struggled with her emotions for a moment, and he gave her time.
"I'm crying because I'm in love with you, Greg Brooks, and there doesn't seem to be a thing I can do about it," she said, her voice trembling like the tears dangling from her lashes.
His heart gave a great rousing kick in the center of his chest, and he pulled her to him and kissed her, tasting the salty tears in her kiss. Breathless when they pulled apart, he smiled at her. "I love you, too, Cara."
"Oh, God," she said, and buried her face into the pillow beside him.
Greg quickly gathered her into his arms as if he could protect her from whatever threatened her. "Cara ... what is it, babe?" He soothed her hair, pressed kisses to her forehead, the bridge of her nose, just anything he could do to comfort her.
"It's a thousand things," she said into his chest, then raised her head to look at him through swimming, brimming eyes. "It's my kids ... and your mom. What are they going to say, Greg?" But before he could say what he thought about it, she went on. "And those people we went to school with all our lives. I can hear them now. 'Wasn't one Brooks boy enough for you, Cara?' " she said snidely and rolled her eyes at the thought. "Especially Lindsay Grisham. That heifer was practically drooling over you at the reunion." She dropped her face back into to the pillow like it was too much to consider. "It's everything."
Greg lay beside her silently for a long moment and let her settle a bit.
"Does it really matter so much to you what anyone says? Will it change the fact that you love me? Because no matter what anyone says, nothing will change the fact that I'm in love with you, Cara," he said quietly.
She idly rubbed the palm of her hand back and forth across his ribs and seemed to think carefully before answering. "I don't want to care. I'm sick of caring more about what other people think than what I want. Jason expected me to toe the line. 'Perception is everything,' he'd say. But I'm tired of it. I want to stop worrying about what people think about me and the decisions I make."
"But you do care, don't you?"
She nodded, an almost imperceptible little movement against his chest. "I guess I do. Mainly about my kids and Barbara." She bent her head back, looking at him. "Do you think your mom will freak out?"
He considered for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know what to expect of her, honestly. She's done a pretty good job of deifying Jason, and she might take it as a betrayal of him by both of us. I don't know. On the other hand, she might be more accepting than the kids. I expect Ryan to have a pretty tough time with it."
Cara closed her eyes, sighing long. "Yeah, he's the one I most dread telling."
He rolled over and pushed his hands under her head, cradling her gently. "Listen, I couldn't care less what anyone we went to school with thinks or says about this. I didn't need their approval in high school ... damn sure don't need it now. But I do care about our family." He caressed her softly, bending his head down to kiss her forehead. "But we'll work through our family stuff together, okay? We're a strong family with lots of common sense. And Ryan, Maddie and Mom all love us both. Ryan may be resistant at first, but he'll come around."
Cara clearly didn't feel as confident about it as he did, and it showed plainly in her eyes. He hated the doubt and worry he saw there, wishing things were different, and that they could just revel in the fact that they loved one another. It was a pretty miraculous thing in his mind.
"You know what I want to do this weekend, babe?" he asked.
"What?"
"I want to not worry about what anyone is going to say or think about me lovin' you and you lovin' me. Can we just enjoy the ... well, honestly ... the miracle of that for this weekend, and worry about the rest of it when we get home?" He finished, and Cara only looked at him softly, her gaze traveling from his eyes to his mouth, then back to his eyes, but he couldn't tell what she might be thinking. He raised his eyebrows in question, reminding her that he was waiting for her answer.
She smiled, a sweet, tender, genuine smile that went straight to his heart. "I think that is a perfect idea." She lifted her chin, and he kissed her tenderly. "You're very wise, my love," she said.
Memories made that weekend would last a lifetime, Cara decided as they walked on the beach Sunday afternoon. The autumn weather wasn't perfect for beach strolling, but with a light sweater and a warm man to snuggle up to, she was happy as a clam.
On Saturday afternoon, they'd sat in a funky little beachside bar and watched on an overlarge TV as the Longhorns whooped up on Baylor in a great game of college football. Greg was happy with that and declared the rest of the weekend hers and only hers to do with him as she pleased.
And oh, how she pleased.
They'd made love so many times she was afraid she'd go home with honeymooner's cystitis before it was all over. Greg was an amazingly talented and selfless lover, inventive and commanding at times, tender and achingly sweet at others. Cara soaked it up like a sea sponge and hoped to bank some of their goodness to offset the drought of the future. It was so hard to find time alone with him, working around her kids.
Of course, she planned to break the news to them soon. She only had to find the right time to do it. In the meantime, she'd have Greg come around more, and be a little less stringent in keeping their feelings for one another so secretive. Maybe the dawning would slowly come, and the impact would be less jarring for the kids. She could only hope so.
They took a cab to the airport late Sunday afternoon, both sad to think about returning home. Their time together had been precious, and neither was ready for it to end. Cara snuggled Greg's shoulder during the flight, stealing kisses and breathing sighs remembering all the ways he had cherished her over the weekend. Stopping by a Starbuck's on his way back to the hotel after a very early morning run to bring her a favorite latte ... rubbing her feet, a dancer's dream ... ignoring a host of college sporting events on tap on ESPN ... telling her in nearly poetic language all the things he loved about her. He was a gem of a man, no doubt about it. She couldn't ever remember having been treated so extravagantly ... so intentionally indulged and lavished with affection and devotion. It took her about twenty-four hours to believe it was real, never having experienced it from a man before. Finally she settled in and accepted it ... savored it. It made her feel nearly drunk, so heady was his brand of loving.
"Thank you for the most wonderful weekend of my life," she whispered, stretching up to kiss his strong jaw, which he had left whisker-stubbled this morning at her request. She loved a heavy five o'clock shadow on him.
His lips smiled slightly, then his eyes turned sultry, and Cara knew immediately what parts of the weekend he was thinking about. "It was pretty darned good, wasn't it?"
"That part was for sure," she said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. He laughed at her. "But honestly, the whole weekend was beyond wonderful. Thank you for coming to meet me and for taking such good, sweet care of me ... for not watching football all weekend. Thank you for all of it," she told him.
He frowned, a small pinch between his brows. "Cara, have you never been treated like this? Like you were loved and cherished?"
The question surprised her and made her slightly uncomfortable. Years of training by a ladder-climbing, smoke-and-mirrors husband had taught her to never air their grievances in public. No matter how ugly things might have been, she was never to let anyone suspect they were a less-than-perfect pairing. Never.
She wanted to be honest with Greg, but she didn't want to compare him to Jason. She searched her mind for something to say which might placate him, but came up pretty empty.
"Forget I asked." He kissed her forehead quickly. "Get used to it, babe. It's how I roll."
She thank
ed him with a smile as the flight attendant asked them to prepare for landing. As soon as they pulled into the gate, Cara switched her phone back on and was surprised to find a half-dozen texts from Maddie dinging into her inbox until it sounded like a slot machine hitting it big.
"Good grief," Greg said. "What's that all about?"
"I don't know. Hope everything is okay," Cara answered as she fumbled with the new smart phone she wasn't really familiar with or comfortable working yet.
She read Maddie's first text.
OMG! Ryan found your lost phone!
"Oh, good ... Ryan found my lost phone," she told Greg before reading further.
Mom ... OMG ... Mom! What the hell is going on???????
The first inkling of implication began to gnaw at the back of Cara's mind. Her phone ... text messages ... photos of her panties on the lampshade ... more slightly naughty texts. All of it suddenly roared to life in her gut with the force of a jet engine.
"Oh, Lord," she said.
Greg was removing their luggage from the overhead bin and heard her.
"What's wrong?"
Cara read on.
Mom, this looks really bad. Like you and Uncle Greg are--
OMG, Mom, Ryan is totally freakin' out. Says he's taking my car over to Uncle Greg's house to confront him. WTH, Mom???