Feels Like the First Time

by Marina Adair

  It was erotic, watching him watch her as she slowly drove him out of his mind. Sweet baby Jesus, he was as impressive as she’d imagined. Even more so. And her fingers must have been pretty impressive as well, because Hawk’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. His body arched in demand, while the muscles in his arms and neck corded tighter with every pass she made.

  “Jesus,” he said, his breath nothing but a rush of air. “Sunshine, all that touching is going to make the next part impossible.”

  “What’s the next part?” she asked, her hands giving no sign that she was going to slow down.

  “The feel part.” He grabbed her wrists, stilling her. “And when I come this first time, I want to feel you tight around me.”

  It happened so fast, she barely saw it coming. One moment she was straddling him, the next Hawk was sitting up on his knees, her ankles locked behind him, and he was lowering her down on her back, with his shirt beneath her for padding.

  “And while I’m doing all of that feeling,” he said, pulling a condom from his back pocket and making short order of his pants, “I am going to be watching you, Aliana. Watching that body of yours come alive around me.”

  His voice was gruff, but confident, and Ali trembled with anticipation. She didn’t like knowing people were watching her; she was always afraid they’d see all of her soft places, the vulnerable spots she kept hidden for fear of being hurt.

  But she wanted to feel alive, wanted Hawk to find those spots, love away the hurt until she wasn’t afraid to be soft. Wasn’t afraid to show her true self.

  But when Hawk slowly lowered himself into her, one careful hand beneath her head, the other around her back, protecting her from the ground beneath, Ali felt a helplessness rise up in her.

  She didn’t know how to explain it, but she felt lost and found at the same time. She felt the past melt away, the uncertainty of tomorrow grow, and her need for Hawk spiral until all she felt was—

  Too damn much, she thought, horrified.

  Too much to process, to watch, and too damn much to lose. So she tugged him to her until she could wrap her arms around him. And Hawk was also a great listener when it came to the unspoken, because he tightened his hold and whispered, “I know, I feel it, too.”

  And something about the slight tremor in his voice gave her the courage to feel it all.

  Hawk felt the shift in her body and began to rock inside her. Slow withdraws and even slower thrusts, taking his time to build the rhythm, the trust—the connection.

  A feeling she had been missing for some time now. And now that she’d found it again, she desperately wanted to cling to it with everything that she had.

  “Stay with me,” Hawk said, picking up the pace, and giving her a kiss to end all kisses.

  And as the pressure built, and Hawk worked her body into a frenzy, and her heart into a knot, she knew that staying with him wasn’t going to be the problem. Letting go was.

  “God, you feel so…” Right? Perfect? Like mine?

  Ali struggled to hear his words over her pounding heart, only he groaned before he could finish his sentence. Afraid she’d never find out, and not wanting to live with one more what-if, she cupped his face and said, “What, Hawk? What do I feel like?”

  His smile was slow in coming, but soft around the edges. “You feel like sunshine.”

  “Sunshine?” She gave a small laugh.

  “Yeah, sunshine.” He kissed her again. “Sometimes it burns bright, sometimes it burns hot, but it has a healing warmth that I always wake up wanting to see.”

  Ali felt her eyes tear up, because that was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said about her. Most people saw the hot side of Ali, but Hawk took the time to really see her for all that she was. And that, more than anything, got to her.

  Afraid she’d do something embarrassing, like cry or blurt out that she loved him, Ali locked her legs around his hips and rose up, relieved when his eyes slid shut in ecstasy.

  “Jesus, Ali,” he moaned, the need in his voice alone nearly sending her over the edge.

  She lowered herself, and then tightened her legs again, the angles of their bodies pushing him deeper, farther. With a groan that said he was done playing, Hawk molded her to him as he crushed her between the ground and the even harder planes of his body.

  His hands, however, stayed gentle, stealing Ali’s heart even more, while his lips gently brushed hers, over and over as the friction grew, and Ali’s body was once again screaming for release.

  “Come on, sunshine,” he whispered. “Let go.”

  I don’t want to let go. I want to hold on.

  “Then wrap your arms around my neck,” he said, making her realize she’d spoken her deepest desire aloud. “And hold tight.”

  Ali did. She held on as Hawk took them both so high it was impossible to breathe, and then higher still.

  “Now,” he commanded softly.

  Ali wasn’t all that big on taking orders, but this time she was helpless. Hawk gave another thrust and sank his teeth into her lower lip and she came apart around him, just like he’d promised.

  She squeezed her arms around his neck and held on with all she had. Her body was on fire from the orgasm surging through her. Hawk took her mouth with his, controlling the kiss, his body quaking with the need to erupt. Both hands beneath her now, he guided her into the rhythm he wanted, and then with a final thrust, he came hard.

  He didn’t crash down on her, instead he rode out the pleasure, his arms shaking from supporting them both, then slowly he rolled over, taking her place on the ground, and laying her across his body.

  After a long moment, and when both of them had stopped gasping for air, Ali reached for her shirt. With nothing more than a grunt, he pressed her head back down on his chest and, taking the shirt from her, laid it over her back.

  It didn’t cover much more than her back; not that she was cold. She was lying on a big hunk of hot male, and Hawk’s hands were affixed to her ass as if he had no intention of moving them anytime soon.

  Too afraid to look up, for fear of what Hawk would see looking back, Ali pressed her face into the curve of his neck, breathing in his scent, tasting the salt on his skin, putting to memory the perfect way his body felt beneath hers. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word became a watermark on her heart.

  Ali was no longer treading water, she was headed out to sea, only she didn’t know if she had a life raft.

  Chapter 11

  Later that night, Ali was in bed, staring across the parking lot into Hawk’s bedroom window. It was dark, of course, because he was tending bar downstairs. But that didn’t stop her from peeking.

  She considered walking into the bar and ordering a drink. Hawk, after all, had tried to convince her to go with him just an hour earlier. But the bar was where they normally hung out, and Ali wasn’t ready to share him yet.

  Maybe it sounded selfish, but she knew the second he walked into his bar, every person there would be drawn to him. That was part of Hawk’s charm; he was such a funny and easygoing guy that people immediately felt better just being around him.

  So Ali had given a regretful no, and Hawk had done his best to persuade her into changing her mind. Even giving her a kiss that felt as if it could have lasted until the sun rose. And wobbly legs or not, she’d stood her ground. And now she was looking at spending her Friday down in her shop, working on her vintage-inspired produce stand piece.

  Only first, she needed her angle grinder. Marty had borrowed it a few weeks ago, when he started spring cleaning on the boat, which meant refinishing all of the teak railings, and replacing the rusted rung on the boat’s ladder. She’d seen it earlier that day in his toolbox.

  Careful not to wake the house, Ali turned off her headlights before she pulled into his driveway and then tiptoed down to the dock. Once on board, she navigated herself below deck, and bumped into something soft—and breathing.

  Ali grabbed the handle of a nearby fishing net, ready to swing when t
he boat lights flicked on.

  She blinked. “Dad? What are you doing down here?”

  “Getting ready for bed. What are you doing with my net?”

  “I was going to pummel you with it.” Ali lowered the net and sat on the bench, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Marty, barefoot, in a pair of black slacks, a button-up, and a parrot-covered bow tie. “It’s after eleven.”

  “My thoughts exactly. What are you doing here?” he asked, channeling that parent tone that had Ali expecting him to tag young lady to the end.

  “I was coming to find my grinder,” she said. “And you still didn’t tell me what you’re doing awake.”

  “Oh,” he said with a small laugh. “I was out with the guys.”

  The dressiest “the guys” ever got was wearing a polo shirt when they went golfing. Ali looked at his Sunday suit and crossed her arms. “You’re awfully snazzy for someone who’s just been ‘out with the guys.’ Try again.”

  Marty loosened his tie and busied himself by pouring two glasses of milk. “Okay, fine, I was out. But not with the guys.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ali said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Then who were you out with?”

  Marty set a glass of milk in front of her, then stood while he sipped his. Ali watched the pink rise up his neck, the way he avoided eye contact, the way he was deflecting. He was sneaking around, but why?

  Ali froze, then slapped her hand over her mouth. The fancy clothes, the new hair, sleeping on the boat, all the sneaking around. The question to ask wasn’t why, but who.

  “Were you out with a girl?” That pink went bright red and ran all the way up his face. “Oh my God.” Ali stood. “You were out with a girl!” She paused, trying to think of anyone her dad had given a second look, and couldn’t think of a single person. Except…

  Ali gagged. “It isn’t Mom, is it? Please tell me you’re not dating Mom again.”

  Marty looked as horrified as Ali sounded. “I am not dating Gail.”

  “Okay, I know the kids are more causal these days, so let me rephrase. Are you having sex with my mom?”

  “No.” He did sound quite as horrified about that possibility as he had about reentering the dating world. Gross. “How could you think that?” Ali lifted a brow. “Okay, so I’ve made a few slips in the past.”

  “A few? You dated her five times and married her twice.” Ali sat back. “They say the third time’s the charm.”

  “I promise you, your mom and I are not having sex.” Thank God!

  “Then tell me why you’re out until all hours, sleeping on the boat, sneaking around.”

  Marty put his milk glass on the table and sat down across from her. “I’ve been racking my brain for years to find a way to reach your sister, show her how much she means to me. Then last week, she asked me to walk her down the aisle.”

  “She did?” Ali couldn’t hold back the smile. “That’s great, Dad. I know that means a lot to you and I am really happy that she asked.”

  She was relieved, really. The wedding was getting closer and Ali had been afraid that Bridget was going to ask someone else to do it. There had even been talk of Jamie’s dad walking her down the aisle. And Marty’s heart was struggling as it was. Being skipped over, again? Ali didn’t think he could have handled that kind of rejection.

  “Me, too, because it’s the first time she’s offered me a way in since high school, when she was crowned queen and asked me to escort her during the Homecoming Parade.” His eyes glistened with hope. “I wanted her to know that I appreciate the chance to walk her down the aisle and I won’t waste the opportunity to get to know her better.”

  Ali wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the one who had turned his back or walked away. He’d had the door slammed in his face over and over by Bridget, and he’d never once given up. Never even considered walking away. Nope, Marty always showed up with his heart on his sleeve, and patience and understanding on his face.

  “She’s always talking about that Dancing with the Stars show,” he went on. “So when I heard that Jamie’s parents had hired an orchestra, one of those big eighteen-piece ensembles, I decided to surprise Bridget with a waltz.”

  “Oh, Dad, that is so sweet,” Ali said, resting her head on Marty’s shoulder. “She’s going to love it.”

  Marty stepping out of his comfort zone and meeting Bridget in her world was exactly what her sister needed to move past the hurt and move on with growing their relationship. And even though Bridget’s and Ali’s relationship was strained at the moment, she really wanted that for them.

  Wanted it for her dad.

  “I hope so,” Marty said, and even though he looked tired, he seemed to have a little extra twinkle in his smile and color in his cheeks. “But your dad here has two left feet, and there isn’t that much time left to teach this old dog a few new tricks.”

  “Well, don’t go overboard on the practice. She’ll be surprised and touched even if you don’t look exactly like Fred Astaire.”

  Marty chuckled, then went serious. “You know, she’s opened a door for you, too, honey.”

  “I know,” Ali moaned. Bridget had a dozen friends who she could have asked to be her maid of honor. All of them more suited for the role, and more suited for Bridget. But she’d chosen Ali. “Why does there always have to be some kind of dress code required for me to enter her world?”

  “Because it’s Bridget,” Marty teased, but then went serious. A rare emotion for a man who lay around in Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. “This wedding is a chance for all of us, and even though your sister won’t admit it, having you there is important to her. I’m sure if you try, you can find some kind of common ground to work from.”

  “Why does ‘common ground’ always sound like Bridget’s way?”

  “Love doesn’t keep score, honey.” Marty took Ali’s hand, something else he rarely did. “And if this old dog can learn some new tricks, I’m sure you’ll find a dress that you can stand for a few hours.”

  “You don’t need tricks.” He had an abundance of love working for him. Ever since Ali was little, she knew his dream had always been to bring Bridget back into the fold, for them to all be one big, happy family. “You’re the real deal, Dad.”

  “It’s easy to be real when I’ve got two amazing daughters in my life,” Marty said, wrapping his arm around Ali’s shoulders and pulling her in for a side hug. Ali rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Even when one of them interrogates me about sneaking around when she’s got seaweed stuck in her hair and smells like men’s aftershave.”

  Ali jerked up and patted her hair. After a thorough search, she found no such seaweed.

  Marty smiled. “I guess things with Hawk aren’t so complicated after all.”

  Um no, things with Hawk were even more complicated than ever. She’d spent the evening with a sexy, gorgeous, amazing man who’d rocked her world and given her the best orgasm, make that orgasms, of her life. And instead of going for round three and waking up next to him, she was here. On her dad’s boat. In the middle of the night. Drinking milk and looking for a grinder.

  Ali sighed. “Nope, things are totally normal.”

  And whose fault was that?

  * * *

  Two days later, Hawk lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The blankets were on the floor, a sheet was tangled around his calf, and all he had to keep him company was an epic case of morning wood, and the damn alarm he’d rigged in the alley.

  It had been going off all morning, interrupting another hot dream of Ali in that blue scrap of fabric she called a swimsuit. Which, pathetically enough, was the closest he’d come to seeing Ali since their night on the bluff.

  He wanted to see more of her. Not just the naked parts either, although they were high on his list. But he wanted to see her sweet parts, explore her secret parts, even her prickly ones. Hell, he wanted the chance to see all of her parts. And they’d been on their way to that the other night.

  Then he’d
had to get to work, and he hadn’t managed to break away early enough to catch her before she went to sleep. When he’d awoken the next day, it was to a text that she’d made a trip to Boise. Something about finding the right dress.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  “Five more minutes,” Hawk mumbled, putting his pillow over his face. But all it did was muffle the sounds.

  With a sigh, Hawk scrubbed a hand over his face, rolled out of bed, and headed toward the front door. Not wanting to wave his stick around again, he tugged on a pair of jeans and headed down the stairs.

  He reached Main Street, just in time to see the Senior Steppers settling on two park benches with their morning coffee and a box of pastries from Sweetie Pies.

  “You ladies taking a break?” he asked.

  “We were finishing our walk when we saw the show, so we grabbed coffee and came back to make sure we got good seats,” Fi said, taking a bite out of a muffin that was bigger than her fist.

  Setting her coffee down, Ms. Collins held up her camera and snapped a picture of Hawk’s chest. She put on her reading glasses to look at her work, and frowned. “Where’s your stick?”

  “Inside,” he said.

  Her eagle eyes narrowed in on him. “But my followers want to see your stick.”

  “Sorry, stick’s off limits.” He reached for her phone to delete the picture before she uploaded it to Instagram for man-candy Monday. But even his honed reflexes weren’t a match for the woman’s paparazzi-like skills. She shoved her phone between her cleavage and then gave him a challenging look.

  Not going there, Hawk asked, “What show?”

  Six bony fingers pointed toward the back of the alley. Where Ali, dressed in a pair of ass-hugging jeans, a tank top, and those silver heels, was dragging a keg half her size across the parking lot.

  “Bitsy here put a cool twenty on her being mad,” Fiona said, jabbing a thumb at the pastor’s wife. “I say the girl’s finally lost it.”

  “My guess was pure revenge,” Ms. Collins said, giving him a pointed look. “So what did you do?”