by Marie Force
“My mother is a hippie environmentalist.”
Georgie stared up at his clean-cut self and tried to imagine him with a hippie for a mother. “No way.”
He rewarded her with the grin that occupied every square inch of his face. “You’ve decided I’m too much of a nerd to have a hippie for a mother, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, it’s true. If you don’t believe me, ask Ben or Ian. She lived on a commune in Utah for two years after college. They were way out in front of the environmental movement and so was she, which is why we recycled at home years before it was in vogue. Since there was nowhere local to take it back then, she and I used to drive it to a place in Boston once a month. She got our whole neighborhood on board, and the car was usually full to the gills with cans and newspapers and beer bottles. What I remember most vividly from those trips is the stench of beer.”
Georgie laughed.
“These days, one of my favorite sounds in the world is the crash of bottles into the recycling truck on garbage day.”
“No doubt the highlight of your week.”
“My favorite day.”
“You really are a nerd, Caldwell.”
Smiling, he rested his hands on her hips and tugged her to him. “But you want me anyway.”
She gauged the almost dangerous glint in his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Hooking his good arm around her neck, he brought his mouth down on hers and set out to prove her wrong. While his kisses the night before had been about gentle seduction, this one was about passionate persuasion. His tongue slid past her teeth in teasing thrusts that made her desperate for more.
Georgie fisted his shirt, trying to gain purchase as her head spun and her heart pounded. She loved the way he kissed, how his soft lips moved over hers as his stubble rubbed against her cheek—not to mention the way he tasted and the spicy male scent that permeated her senses every time she was close to him. It was okay to admit all that, right? Just because she loved kissing him didn’t mean she loved him, did it?
The hand that had been resting on the small of her back slid down to palm her bottom. He pulled her tight against his erection.
“Nathan,” she gasped. “Someone might see us.”
Raising his head, he took a quick glance around. “Who?” He returned his attention to her lips.
“Wait,” she said, pressing her hands to his chest. “I need to catch my breath.”
He flashed her a cocky grin. “Took it away, did I?”
“Don’t look so satisfied.”
“I’m far from satisfied,” he said in a low, sexy voice, his blue eyes heavy with desire. He took her hand and started back to the car.
Georgie’s heart continued to thud as she walked with him down the dirt path.
When they reached the parking lot, he angled her back against the sun-warmed car and molded his body to hers. Cradling her face in his hand, he kissed her lightly this time, as if he intended to keep her off balance. “You’re so beautiful, Georgie,” he whispered against her lips, bringing her in closer and then wincing when his injured arm protested the movement.
“No, I’m not. I’m short and my eyes are too close together and—”
He silenced her with another passionate kiss. “If I say you’re beautiful, you have to believe me.” His fingers slid beneath the hem of her shirt and heated her skin. “Have you been thinking about the first night we spent together?” he whispered in her ear.
Georgie’s eyes darted up to meet his. “No,” she said in a shaky voice that gave her away.
“Liar,” he chuckled.
She shuddered from the skim of his lips over her ear.
“I think about it all the time. I dream about it.” Under her shirt, his hands coasted up over her ribs. His thumbs grazed her nipples.
“Nathan,” she moaned as she arched into his embrace. “Stop.”
“Okay.”
As he kissed her forehead and removed his hands from under her top, Georgie could have cried from the loss. Wait, she wanted to say yet again. I didn’t mean it!
“Ready to go?” he asked with maddening nonchalance.
Was he serious? Could he really turn it off that fast? He was making her crazy one kiss at a time, which, she suspected, was his plan. She could barely stand, let alone drive, but with the brush of her hand across her burning lips, she made an effort to pull herself together.
“How about I drive for a while?” he asked with a smug grin that told her he was well aware of the effect his rapid withdrawal had on her.
“Fine.” Georgie threw the keys at his head, plopped into the passenger seat and slammed the door.
“What’s got you so hot and bothered?” he asked as he got in the car with the keys in his hand rather than sticking out of his head as she had intended.
She shot him a look of pure disbelief. “I’m neither hot nor bothered.”
“Sweetheart, you’re both, and that just infuriates you, doesn’t it?”
“God, you’re so full of yourself! How can you stand it?”
“At least I know what I want. You, on the other hand. Who knows from one minute to the next what you want? Hot, cold, warm, icy, smoldering, and then just as fast we’re right back to frigid. That one’s a real turn off, I gotta tell you.”
“Are you through?”
“I’m just getting started.”
“I told you what I wanted—way back at the very beginning. Remember? Do you have any memory of me saying I. Don’t. Want. To. Get. Involved? Ringing any bells?”
“Involved? Is that what we are? Well, at least it has a definition now. That’s progress.”
“Ugh!” she shrieked. “You are the most aggravating person I’ve ever met! You hear only what you want to hear, you keep showing up, making yourself necessary to me, kissing me senseless, and what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to deal with that? Can you tell me?”
He smirked, and it took all her willpower not to smack it right off his face. “Why are you making that face?”
“I’m necessary to you, huh?”
“See what I mean? You hear only what you want to hear! I swear to God, if you weren’t already injured, I’d beat the daylights out of you myself!”
“That I’d like to see. In fact, the minute my arm stops hurting like a bastard, you’re on.”
“Now you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah.” He flipped a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I guess I am.”
Smacking his hand away, she glowered at him.
“Do you really want me to leave you alone, Georgie?” he asked softly. “Do you want me to go away and never come back? Because if that’s what it’ll take to make you happy, I’ll do it, even though I’d miss you and all your many moods like crazy. Is that what you want?”
As she glanced over to gauge his sincerity, her stomach hurt at what she saw on his face. The cockiness was gone, the humor was gone, and in their place was sadness. That she had done that to him dissolved what remained of her anger. “No.”
“Are you sure? You need to be sure, because I don’t plan to make this offer again.”
“I’m not sure of anything. That’s the problem.”
“Here’s something you can be sure of—I’m falling for you, Georgie Quinn, and you’ve become quite necessary to me, too. Vital, in fact.”
“You really have to stop saying that stuff.”
Leaning in to kiss her, he said, “Okay.”
Chapter 17
With butterflies storming around in his stomach and as confident as a teenaged boy about to take out the hottest babe in school, Ian Caldwell wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and stood on the front porch for a long time before he could work up the nerve to ring the bell. When was the last time I was this nervous before a date? Never.
“Come on in,” Cat called out the window from the third floor. “I’ll be right down.”
Ian stepped into the foyer and to
ok the opportunity to check the place out. He had been so busy trying not to stare at Cat earlier that he hadn’t noticed much of anything else. The house was decorated in dark woods and bright colors—reds, yellows, and bold splashes of pattern, on big, solid furniture. Before he could get past the living room, he heard footsteps on the stairs and let his eyes wander up.
Legs . . . endless, creamy white legs on . . . were those heels? Had she worn heels for him? Only when he saw spots dancing in front of his eyes did Ian realize he had stopped breathing. God almighty, she was, without a doubt, the hottest woman he had ever known, and she had worn heels for him!
She landed at the bottom of the stairs and didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. Right then, Ian got that she was nervous, too. At least they had that much in common.
“Hi,” she said.
“You look . . .” His voice trailed off when words failed him.
“The shoes are a bit much. That’s what you were going to say right?”
Slowly, he shook his head and took a step closer to her. “That’s not what I was going to say. That’s not at all what I was going to say.”
She swallowed. “What then?”
“Gorgeous,” he said, taking another step. “Drop-dead, bowl-me-over, knock-me-out gorgeous.”
Her big brown eyes widened as she stepped back and encountered wall.
Ian had no idea what he thought he was doing when he propped his hands against the wall on either side of her head. “Cat.”
“Yes?” she said, her voice heavy with what he hoped was the same desire that pulsed through him.
“All I can think about since last night is kissing you again.”
“Oh. Really?”
Fixated on her mouth, he said, “Uh-huh.” As much as it pained him, he didn’t move to take what he wanted more than the next breath. Instead, he waited, for just the slightest signal from her, anything that would tell him they were on the same page—
Her hand snaked up around his neck and pulled his head down to her.
Okay, that would do it. As her lips connected with his, a bolt of electricity surged through him, and all the blood in his head set out for parts south. The kiss was a tangle of teeth and tongues and hands—hers on his ass hauling him as close as he could get without pushing her through the wall, and his, oh God, did he dare cop a feel of those unbelievable breasts? Thinking about them had kept him awake half the night wondering if they would feel as amazing as they looked.
Oh hell, why not? He moved his hands up and landed in heaven. A groan rumbled through him and echoed into her as the kiss went on and on. Finally, when the need for oxygen became more important than sucking her tongue into his mouth, he pulled his lips free and buried his face in her neck, encountering her dark, sexy scent.
Her fingers twisted into his hair, his erection nestled into the V of her legs. “Cat,” he whispered as he closed his teeth over the tendon that joined her neck to her shoulder. “Jesus.”
And then her hand curled around his, and she dragged him up the stairs. They raced to the third floor. She pushed him into her room, shut the door behind her, and flipped the lock. Nothing in his wildest fantasies could compare to the sound of that lock clicking into place.
“You have to work,” he somehow managed to say as she tore his shirt over his head and fastened her lips to his nipple.
“I’ve got two hours. Is it going to take that long?”
“We’ll be really, really lucky if it takes two minutes.”
Her sexy, husky laugh was almost enough to send him into orbit. He wanted to slow it down, to take his time, but somehow he couldn’t quite seem to make it happen. Fumbling, he found the hem of her top and tugged it up and over her head, uncovering the most magnificent breasts he had ever seen. He filled his hands, bent his head, and ravished.
She cried out and sank her fingers into his hair. “Ian.”
“Tell me what you want.”
Tugging at the waistband of his jeans, she showed him what she wanted.
He shed his jeans, lifted her, and came down on top of her on the unmade bed. Lips fused, hands clutched, bodies locked together, the storm of passion blazed like an out-of-control wildfire. In all his life, Ian had never wanted a woman like this. Not ever, and as he pushed her skirt down over slim hips, he had the wherewithal to wonder if this woman, this moment, might become the gold standard by which all others were measured.
“Condom,” she panted. “In the drawer.”
His body plastered to hers, he reached over her, opened the drawer, and weeded through nail polish, earrings, and other chick flotsam in search of condoms. “Where?”
She reversed their positions and stretched her arm toward the table, placing a nipple right above his face. What was a guy to do with that? He sucked it hard into his mouth, and she let out a squeal of surprise and knocked the wind out of him when her pelvis gyrated against his erection. “Cat, honey, come on.”
With a soft giggle, she said, “Got one.” She sat up, straddled him, and ripped the wrapper off with her teeth.
He had never seen anything sexier—until she used her mouth to roll it on him. Jesus Christ, mother of God, Hail Mary full of grace.
“Mmm,” she said, her lips vibrating against his shaft.
“Cat.” He reached for her, brought her up to him, and satisfied another fantasy when he looped her brow ring around his tongue. “Yup.”
“What?”
“It’s every bit as sexy as I imagined it would be.”
Her eyes met his in the fading daylight. “You imagined that?”
“Uh-huh, and this.” Using his legs to spread hers, he entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust. “And a whole lot of other things.” With his hand cupping the back of her head, he urged her into another deep, probing kiss that, coupled with the action below, had him on the verge far too soon.
She sat up and sank down farther on him, which did nothing to help his faltering control.
Ian groaned and reached for her as she began to ride him with abandon.
Her breasts swayed in rhythm with the frantic motion of her hips.
Desperate to buy himself some time, he sat up, wrapped an arm around her back to hold her still, and feasted first on one breast, then the other. Her breathy sighs and quick, sharp gasps fueled his desire.
With great reluctance, he abandoned her breasts when her hands landed on his face and tilted it up. As her lips came down on his, he kept his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of her ascent. Anchoring her hips with his hands, he pushed hard into her once, twice. Her thighs quivered, her inner walls clutched him like a velvet fist, her head fell back, her lips parted. She clung to him as he went deep once more and drove her into oblivion.
Her rapturous scream took him with her.
Cat rested on top of him, her heart racing, her body still thrumming from the best orgasm she’d had in, well, ever. His fingers traced a path up and down her spine as his penis twitched inside her.
“You can’t tell Nathan about this,” she said.
He laughed softly, which sent him deeper into her. “Why in the world would I tell him?”
She lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Guys talk.”
Gathering her face into his hands, he urged her to look at him. “Not this guy.”
Cat believed him. The aura of honor about him made him trustworthy.
“I can’t help but wonder why you’d care if I told Nathan in particular.”
“Because. He’d tell Georgie, and I’d never hear the end of it after the way I razzed her when she and Nathan . . .”
“She and Nathan what?”
Cornered, Cat tried to think of something she could say to change the subject. Her mind went totally blank, so she resorted to a trick as old as the book. She kissed him—a soul-stirring, mind-altering kiss that, if she said so herself, was one of the best kisses she had ever given anyone.
He rolled them over and poured himself into the kiss.
“Nice try,” he whispered. “Now spill it.”
“Damn it,” she muttered.
Ian laughed as he finally withdrew from her and kissed his way to her breasts. Dragging his tongue in lazy circles around her nipple, he denied her what she really wanted. “Tell me.”
She gripped his hair and tried—unsuccessfully—to direct his mouth. With a groan of frustration, she said, “Fine. They did it. Are you happy now?”
“Not quite.” He rewarded her with a quick stroke of his tongue over a turgid peak. “Something tells me there’s more to the story.”
“Ian!” she cried, arching her back and pulling his hair.
“Just tell me.” He shifted his attention to her belly. “I won’t say anything.”
Finding it hard to breathe, let alone speak, Cat said, “They did it a bunch of times—the night they met.”
Raising his head to find her eyes, he lifted an eyebrow. “Get out. Really?”
“Uh-huh. Now can you shut up and get busy down there?”
His broad shoulders pushed her legs apart as he moved farther down. “Glad to.” He teased her with his tongue and fingers until she was a squirming, needy disaster area. “What’s Cat short for?”
“How can you talk right now?” she panted.
Trailing a finger through her dampness, he said, “Not as much of a problem for me.”
“If I tell you, will you stop fooling around and get down to it?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“Catherine, but if you call me that, you won’t live to your next birthday.”
“Catherine,” he said as he slid a finger into her. “I like that. Old-fashioned and proper.”
“Yeah, just like me.” She pushed hard against his hand, begging for more.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight,” she choked out. “You?”
“Thirty-six. This might seem like an odd time to ask, when I’ve got my face buried in your, you know, but what’s your last name?”
Cat’s laughter faded to a moan when he closed his lips over her most sensitive spot. As he added a second finger and insistent flicks of his tongue, she climbed toward another climax.