by Diana Tobin
Web headed down the stairs to search for her.
The French doors were open to the porch, and he knew if Gusta wasn’t sitting out there, she’d be down by the lake. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before heading out.
On the porch table, he found a bucket with an opened bottle of wine and two bottles of beer tucked into the ice. A wine glass sat next to the bucket.
He had to hand it to her, he thought as he ran his hand over his face. She wanted a serious talk, but she made sure they were comfortable during it.
As he figured, Gusta was down by the water, sitting in the grass. He went back inside before he joined her.
“Hold this, please.” Web handed her his bottle of beer. Once she had hold of it, he placed the old quilt around her shoulders, then sat down next to her. “Thanks,” he said, taking back his beer. “Evenings are getting chilly.”
“Thank you.” She’d finished her wine, but continued to hold her glass.
“Want a refill?” He gestured to her empty glass.
She met his look. “Am I going to need it?”
Web smirked at her. “I was perfectly willing to let our bodies do the communicating. You’re the one who wanted words.”
“I know.”
Her look was sad and apologetic, making him feel like he’d kicked a sick puppy.
Without a word he got up, went to the porch, and returned with the ice bucket. Web filled up her glass, gulped down half his beer, and said, “All right.”
After another long drink, he said, “You’re no longer running your fingers through my hair. You’re not running your toes up and down my leg. You’re no longer caressing my body with yours. Talk.” He watched her open and close her mouth a few times, wave her hand around, and take a long drink of her wine. “Tell me why we can’t be lovers.”
Gusta kept her gaze on the lake. “We’re cousins.”
“Bullshit!”
She turned to gape at him, eyes wide.
“Technically, we’re cousins,” he stated. “Your grandmother married my grandfather, but there’s not one drop of shared blood between us.”
“I know,” she said quietly, almost meekly.
“It would be different if we’d grown up together.” He thought that over for a minute. “Maybe not. We still wouldn’t share any blood, we’d just feel more like relatives. Still, cousins have been known to marry.”
“Marry! Who’s talking about marriage?”
Yep, definitely too soon to talk about anything permanent.
“No one,” Web said. “I was making a point. Distant cousins marry. Widows marry their deceased husband’s brother, and vice versa.” He set a hand over hers. “The thing is, there’s nothing to stop us from being intimate.”
“What happens when it’s over? How do we spend the rest of the year under the same roof, then?” she asked. “I’d have to live in my car again until I could afford to rent someplace–”
“What the hell do you mean you’d ‘have to live in your car again’?” Web saw her flinch at his shout, but he couldn’t concern himself with that at the moment. When she tried to pull her hand away, he dumped his beer in the grass and tossed her glass to the side so he could hold both her arms. “Tell me you and Hope weren’t homeless?”
“Not exactly.”
“What, exactly,” he ground out.
“Hope was in the hospital. She never had to sleep in the car.” She finally met his look. “Honest.”
“Meaning, you did.” It wasn’t a question.
Gusta closed her eyes and nodded her agreement. “Yes.” She drew in a deep breath and sat erect. “Please, let go of me. You’re hurting me.”
Only then did Web realize how he’d dug his fingers into her tender flesh. “I’m sorry.” He lifted her hands and pressed a kiss into each palm. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Setting her hands in her lap, he pulled the quilt back around her shoulders and poured her more wine. “Tell me,” he said softly.
She took a sip of wine and relaxed some. “The only job I had was the knitting projects. I didn’t want a regular job that would take me away from Hope.” She glanced over at him and Web nodded his encouragement. “She hadn’t left the hospital in months, and I was spending all my time there with her. It seemed wasteful to spend money on an apartment I wasn’t using. Not to mention, we needed the money for the medical bills.”
“You didn’t have insurance?”
Her hands shook as she gripped her wine glass. “No. I’d been doing the knitting projects for the last five years so I could have an income, but be with Hope. We had insurance through Steve’s employer, but he lost that job not long after Hope was diagnosed. Steve kept changing jobs, so we never had a chance to get on an insurance plan through his work.” She stared out over the water. “I often wondered if he kept changing jobs just so we never had a chance.
“About four months before Hope …I was behind in the rent, so I sold everything I could and moved out. Most nights, I slept in a chair next to Hope’s bed. I was able to shower in her bathroom.” She turned to look at him. “The nurses were really nice. They understood our circumstances and overlooked a few things. When I had to, I slept in my car in the hospital parking lot.”
She lifted her shoulders a bit and took a drink. “When I said this was the end of the line for me, I wasn’t kidding.”
Gusta spoke so quietly Web almost didn’t hear her. Her words chilled him to the bone.
He moved closer to her, placing his arm across her back. “Okay. You don’t have to sleep in your car again. There’s a nice new big bed upstairs I said I’d be willing to share with you.”
She laughed. “You are a generous man, Mr. Webster.”
“I do what I can,” he said smugly. He drank his beer while he held her and watched the breeze ruffle the surface of the lake. “Why do you think it will end? We’ve barely begun.”
“I couldn’t satisfy my husband! What makes you think I can satisfy you?” She gulped down her wine. “When you realize what a mistake you’ve made getting me into your bed, am I supposed to sit back and watch you laugh yourself sick? Or sit by quietly as you parade women in and out to do what I couldn’t?”
“That bastard really did a number on you,” Web said in a low deep voice. “But the worst part is, you’re still letting him grind you under his boot heel.” He grabbed her hand and held it over the fly of his shorts. “Good God, woman. Do you feel what you do to me? It’s a wonder I can walk half the time the way you make me hard.”
Web slid one hand to the back of her neck, forcing her to face him, while he pressed the hand at his fly harder against his erection. “Do you think I get like this at every pretty face? How many cold showers do you think I can take? How often do I have to jump in the lake to keep you from seeing the bulge in my shorts?”
Gusta just stared at him, unable to form a word, not that he was ready to listen.
“Upstairs,” he nodded his head toward the house, “you were making these greedy little sounds in your throat when I did this.” He dipped his head to kiss her chin. “I heard you moaning when I did this.” He nibbled at her lips, sucking the lower one between his teeth, then swept his tongue over and into her mouth. “You were holding my hair to keep my mouth on you.”
He trailed soft love bites down her throat. Her head fell back, granting his easier access.
“You were moving your body against mine. Rubbing your breasts against me so I could feel those hard little peaks even through our clothes.” He bent his head to close his mouth over one breast, wetting her shirt and bra with his tongue. “Your hips were grinding against mine, wanting me deep inside you.” He slid his hand between her legs, cupping her, pressing his fingers and palm against her as he kissed her, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth.
“I damn near came in my shorts while we were doing all that,” he gritted out. “So, don’t tell me you can’t satisfy me.”
The next instant, Web was on his feet. He walked into the lake until
it was deep enough for him to dive in and swim.
♥•♥•♥
Gus crumpled to the grass as soon as Web released her.
Her body was shaking, her heart was pounding, her mind was a blurring whirl, and her panties were drenched. She might have just had her first orgasm. Ever.
If Web could do that to her just by talking, kissing her some, and a few touches…She wasn’t sure she could survive full out sex with the man. She shuddered. Not from disgust, but from pure excitement and pleasure.
Her ex-husband had never made her feel like this.
Splashing finally registered on her brain, and she realized Web was swimming. She sat up and watched him slice through the water, his arms slashing at it as if he were beating his way through the clear surface.
How could he make her feel that way, then just walk away?
Gus kept watching him swim as she thought about what he’d said. Web was right. She’d been letting her life with Steve guide her actions and reactions. She needed to stop measuring other men against her ex-husband. Steve Payne wasn’t worth a second of her thoughts and time. He certainly wasn’t worth the rest of her life.
Few men could measure up to Charles Webster.
Cold showers…jump in the lake. Oh!
Tossing back the quilt she was tangled in, she pulled off her shoes and got to her feet. She was about to pull off her tee shirt and capris when she realized it was still daylight and there was the possibility others would see her.
Following Web’s example, Gus waded into the water until it was deep enough for her dive in. The cold water made her catch her breath, and she nearly turned back. Instead, she began swimming out to him. Fortunately, Web was headed back to shore and she didn’t have to swim too far or too long.
Gus aimed straight for him until he had to either stop or swim over the top of her.
Web chose to stop, treading water, staring at her, silent as a stone. Gus moved closer until she could put her arms on his shoulders, making him keep them both afloat.
Tilting her head slightly, she said, “Would you, please, do that again? It was wicked good.”
Then, she kissed him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Web was struggling to keep them from drowning. Then, Gusta wrapped her long legs around his waist…and he thought it might not be a bad way to die.
The swim had cooled his body, if not his temper, but Gusta’s body against his, her mouth on his, heated it right back up.
“Honey, I can’t stand up.”
“Yeah, my legs are kinda wobbly, too.” She was trailing kisses over his jaw, sucking on his earlobe while she pressed her breasts to his chest.
“No, I mean,” he spat out a mouthful of lake water. “It’s too deep.”
“I think I’m in over my head, but so what?” Gusta wrapped herself tighter around him.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but could we do it on dry land?” He let the water close over both their heads.
Gusta clung to his neck, but let her legs loose to help tread water. “You can’t swim with me holding on?”
“Who are you and what have you done with Augusta Thompson?”
She stared into his eyes. “I need to touch you. All of you.”
He was definitely drowning, going under for the third time. “I may not have any strength left by the time we get to shore.”
Gusta moved around behind him, keeping her arms around his neck without choking him. “I’ll help kick.”
Web started swimming with Gusta on his back. Her legs and hips floated out behind them, but he could feel her breasts against his back while her hands clung to his shoulders.
When he reached the shallows, he reached around to pull her from his back as he twisted to sit on the rocky lake bottom. His chest was heaving with each breath. He needed a minute before he could get to his feet and walk to the grass.
Gusta didn’t give him that minute. She straddled his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist again while she wrapped her arms around his chest. Her mouth was busy at his throat.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Now who’s stuttering?” she said with a satisfied grin. She was licking the water from his collarbone.
“I-I’m not. I c-can’t breathe.” He had her bottom firmly in the palms of his hands, pressing her against him.
She snickered. “Yeah, right.” She tugged at his wet tee shirt. “I need this off you. I want to touch your skin.”
Web let his forehead fall to her shoulder and felt her shiver. “We’re freezing our asses off out here where anyone might see us.”
She rocked against him. “Web, I can’t wait till dark.”
She was practically begging him.
One minute, she was giving him crap about their being cousins; then more shit that she’d disappoint him—and now, she was all but begging him to make love to her. What the hell happened while he was trying to cool off in the lake?
“Up.” He wrapped his hands around her waist to lift her off him. She whimpered in protest and he simply said, “Inside.”
Cripes! He couldn’t even talk in coherent sentences.
Web dragged them both from the water and staggered over to the quilt. They were both shaking as the cool evening air hit their wet bodies.
Gusta dropped to her knees on the quilt, but Web pulled her back up. “Not out here.” He grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around them as they made their way up the grassy slope.
On the porch, Gusta tried to pry off her wet, clinging capris, but Web stopped her with one word. “Inside.” She protested about puddles on the floor, but his answer was short and to the point. “Fuck the floor.”
He got them inside, shut the doors behind them, and started tugging at her wet clothes. When she was naked with sopping clothes strewn around her feet, Web could only stare at her. He didn’t feel the cold water dripping off his clothes and down his body, he only saw the beauty of the woman before him.
His hands shook as he reached out to her, but Gusta bridged the distance between them. Her hands were at his waist, wrenching open the button and zipper of his fly, shoving the wet shorts down his legs. When she reached for the hem of his shirt, he came out of his trance enough to jerk it over his head and let it fall with a wet splat.
Now, her hands trembled as she ran them over his chest, tugging at the ginger hair. She stepped closer, pressing her lips to the flat disks on his chest, suckling him as he wanted to do to her.
Web wrapped his arms around Gusta, bringing her closer still as his arousal pressed into her belly. “You feel so good.”
His chest was still heaving, but no longer from the exertion of swimming. Now, he was trying to keep from throwing Gusta to the floor and taking her like a savage. He pulled her tighter and walked them to her bedroom.
She was running her hands up and down his back, following the line of his spine, cupping the globes of his buttocks. He pulled her up to her toes to take her mouth in a tongue-thrusting kiss.
He nearly lost it when she trailed her hands down his chest to his abdomen to his thighs, and then stroked the length of him.
“Oh…” she sighed.
Web backed her to the side of her bed, pushing her to sit, and knelt before her, spreading her thighs to wrap her legs around him as he kissed her. Her breasts filled his hands, the peaks stabbing his palms. He bent his head to take one in his mouth while his free hand traced the bones of her spine, pushing her against and into his mouth.
He switched sides before trailing kisses down her stomach.
He bent lower and her fingers slipped into the wet strands of his hair. He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and placed one of her legs over his shoulder, then proceeded to kiss, nip, and lick his way up her inner thigh to the very core of her.
As the tip of his tongue touched her, she jolted and moaned. “Oh, my…Web.” Then, she went off like a rocket, her hips thrusting, her leg holding him closer.
Finally, he let her fall back on the b
ed. He followed, kissing back up her body until he hovered over her mouth. “Yes,” he said against her lips. “I’m your Web.” He kissed her, doing to her mouth what he’d just done to her body.
Moving her farther on to the bed, he stretched out over her, his arousal probing at her entrance. “Gusta, sweetheart.” Her love-hazed gaze met his. “Are you on anything?” When she frowned, he gritted his teeth. “Birth control, baby. I don’t want you pregnant…yet.”
The sensual haze cleared from her eyes. “No. There’s been no need and I couldn’t afford–”
Web stopped her with a quick kiss. “Okay. Upstairs.” He pulled her up, then boosted her into his arms, her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders. “Unless you’ve got condoms?” he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Hang on,” he instructed as he headed for the stairs and his room. “Just makes us more special.”
“I could walk,” she protested.
Web placed a hand on the back of her head as he kissed her, keeping his eyes open to negotiate the stairs. “Nope, don’t want you that far away.” The other hand was under her bottom and his fingers couldn’t resist probing at her slickness.
Halfway up the stairs he stopped, his fingers splaying her open as he rubbed his erection over her. “Maybe we’ll chance it.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Gotta be inside you, baby.”
He shifted her, clenched his teeth, and thrust inside her.
She gasped and wiggled against him, but he held her still. “Don’t move,” he demanded. His head fell to her shoulder. “You feel so damn good!”
“Web,” she whimpered.
“Yeah. More.” He was drawing in deep breaths. “Hold on.”
Somehow, he made it up the rest of the stairs, each step moving him in and out of her a little and driving him crazy.
Inside the room, he slowly lifted her off him and set her on her feet. He pulled a box of condoms out of the dresser and ripped into the package. Foil packets went flying across the floor, but he only needed one. As he tore it open to sheath himself he told Gusta, “On the bed. Now.”