"You're so beautiful," he murmured.
She smiled. "Hardly."
"You are. Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you."
She wrinkled her nose. "I look like a kitten. It's not a comparison most people aspire to."
"I saw the likeness at first," he admitted, "but now I just see you."
He stroked her cheek, then her nose. He followed the path down to her mouth. She parted her lips. Her tongue darted out and licked the tip of his finger. Instantly fire shot through him.
He swore under his breath.
She smiled. "Did you like that?"
"Let's just say I'd like anything you did right now." He circled her mouth with his finger.
She leaned her head forward, opened her mouth and captured his finger. She drew him in deeply, then suckled him, circling his sensitized skin with her tongue.
The movement mimicked what they would do later, the completion of their act of love. It was as if someone had hooked up a direct circuit from his index finger to his groin. Sensation raced down, engorging him, making him flex painfully against the fly of his trousers. His skin heated to the point of burning.
He pulled his finger free and kissed her. Passion caught him in its grip until he feared for his control. In the back of his mind was the constant worry that she was so small. He didn't want to hurt her.
He plunged his tongue inside, as if daring her to do with that what she'd done with his finger. She obliged him until he thought he might explode. He retreated and she followed. While she touched and tasted his mouth, he clamped his lips around her and tormented her in return. She writhed beneath him.
He stroked her bare arm, then her midriff. Brushing the towel aside, he cupped the curve of her hip, then traced her thighs. She was all woman, all curves, in a compact package. He reversed his steps until he cupped her breast. While his fingers teased her already tight nipple, he broke the kiss and trailed down her throat. She arched her head back, urging him on.
He tasted her skin and explored her smooth chest, before dipping lower. A quick jerk freed her of the towel. He tossed it over his shoulder and she was bare to his gaze.
He stared at her full breasts, then at her narrow waist and the sweep of her hips. At the apex of her thighs, her curls were only a shade or two darker than the hair on her head. He placed his hand on her belly. His little finger nestled in her curls, his thumb nearly touched her breasts. She was too small.
If he'd been any kind of gentleman, he would have stopped. Instead, his mind raced to find a dozen different ways to make it work. It had to be possible. If he didn't make love with her, he would die.
He tried to remember how long it had been since he'd touched a woman intimately. Months. Years. He'd begun to think he would never experience that particular pleasure again. After a while, his body had ceased wanting the release and he'd put that part of his life on hold. He'd always equated lovemaking with love, having given up mindless sex shortly after his teens. He didn't love Jill – at least he assumed he didn't. But this intimacy felt right. Maybe it was what she'd said. They were both tired of being alone. He trusted her. That was more than what he could have said about Krystal.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, reaching for the first button on his uniform shirt.
"That I'm going to hurt you. You're too small."
She laughed and her breasts bounced in time with her amusement. He wanted to beg her to do it again, but his mouth was dry and he couldn't speak. He lowered his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth.
She grabbed his head as if to hold him in place. He wanted to tell her he had no plans to go anywhere, but that would have meant stopping. Instead, he rolled the tight point between his lips. He circled her with his tongue, then lifted his mouth slightly and blew on the damp flesh.
Her hips tilted toward him, her grip on his hair tightened. He moved to her other breast and repeated his ministrations. Her arms fell to her sides as she rocked her head from side to side. With each breath, she moaned.
He placed his hand flat on her belly, then slid it lower until his fingers encountered her curls. He could feel the softness of her, the dampness. Lower and lower until her waiting warmth enveloped him. The temptation of slick heat was more than he could resist. He eased one finger inside of her.
Instantly, she parted her thighs. He tested the tight circle that would milk him to ecstasy. Her muscles clenched around him and he groaned.
Even as his tongue traced a tight circle over her nipple, his fingers found a matching taut peak between her legs. He circled that place, too, moving around and around before stroking over it. Once. Quickly.
Her hips flexed toward him. Her breathing rate increased, as did the temperature of her skin. He brushed the spot, inciting the same response. As he drew his head down her body, pausing to lick her belly and nip at her side, he moved his fingers rhythmically. He picked up speed to match her breathing. She clawed at the sheets and called his name. He nibbled on her hipbone, then traced a line through her curls and finally bent low so he could replace his hand with his mouth.
At the first touch of his tongue, she screamed, though it wasn't especially loud. The sound had a half-embarrassed quality to it that made him smile.
His body was doing some screaming of its own. The fire between his legs had reached the point of being unbearable, but he didn't stop what he was doing; He'd always enjoyed touching a woman everywhere, tasting her, bringing her to pleasure first. If he waited until they climaxed together, he didn't get to watch her, or listen to her breathing, or see the flush on her skin. It took away from the experience. So even as his erection throbbed and flexed, and his muscles tightened in anticipation, he slowed the cadence of his tongue against her most feminine place.
He circled her, sweeping around, but not touching the vibrating place of need. He dipped inside her, then returned to the tiny place. Only when her breath came in pants and her bent legs trembled did he move faster, bringing her quickly to the point of release.
She hung there for a heartbeat, her body unbelievably tight. He flicked his tongue quickly, then slipped a finger inside her and pressed upward, as if to caress the spot from both sides.
She convulsed around him. She trembled and shook. Powerful contractions squeezed his finger as he felt and watched her experience perfection. As he continued to touch her gently, lightly, she rode the crest of fulfillment until at last it slowed and she was still.
He sat up and stared at her. Her irises were huge. A flush covered her chest. She blinked several times as if the world was just now coming into focus.
"I think the earth moved," she said, her voice sounding stunned.
He smiled.
"I'm not kidding. I think I've been doing it wrong all these years. It's never been—" She exhaled. "You should teach a class. Trust me, you could make a fortune."
He bent over and kissed her. She locked her arms around him, holding him close.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welco—"
She slipped her tongue into his ear. Instantly, his body stiffened. Delicious tingles raced through him. She nipped his lobe, then moved lower and sucked on his neck. Her teeth grated erotically.
He braced his weight on his arms, determined to let her have her way with him. She reached for the buttons on his shirt and began unfastening them. By the time she'd pulled the cloth free from his trousers, he'd begun to shake.
She raised herself up slightly and, as she drew the shirt apart, placed her mouth against his chest. She trailed kisses from his throat to his waistband. She circled her tongue through the hair until she found his nipples, then teased him into mindlessness.
When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pushed himself into a sitting position and ripped off his shirt. She sat up, completely naked and apparently unselfconscious.
Her hands followed the path the shirt had taken. She touched his shoulders, then stroked down his arms. She knelt before him, her breasts swaying free. He
reached for them, cupping her gently. She tilted her head back.
"I can't believe how that makes me feel," she said.
"It does a lot for me, too." His voice was hoarse.
Keeping her head back, she leaned toward him so that her breasts brushed against his chest. The faint touch of her taut nipples was a pleasing form of torture. She swayed back and forth, keeping her balance by resting her hands on his shoulders. Suddenly she stopped and stared at him. Her green eyes widened.
"Oh, Craig, I'm not on the Pill anymore."
Birth control. Protection. He should have thought of it before. He grinned. Who'd had the time?
"I've got some condoms upstairs," he said, sliding off the bed.
She stood up and shook her head. "You stay right here. I'll get them. Where are they?"
"My nightstand. On the left side, top drawer."
She started out of the room, then glanced over her shoulder at him. "While I'm gone, feel free to take off the rest of your clothes."
He watched her leave, then did as she requested, quickly pulling off his socks, then stepping out of his trousers and briefs. Once that was done, he didn't know whether he should sit on the side of the bed or lie down.
He glanced at himself and frowned. His arousal was so obvious. He didn't want to scare her off. He was still worried about the size problem. His finger had slipped inside her easily enough, but this was a little … larger.
Before he could figure out what to do, she'd returned with a small box of condoms. She touched the top. "Unopened."
"I just bought them."
She moved to the side of the bed. "I'm glad."
He'd settled on a sitting position. When she stepped in front of him, he was glad. He took the box from her and set it on the nightstand, then grabbed her hips and lifted her onto his lap. She straddled him, his arousal trapped between their bellies. She wiggled and he almost lost his control right there.
"Damn it, woman!" he growled.
She giggled. "I love it when you talk dirty."
He stared at her. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fishing for more compliments?"
"No. You just spent a week in bed. I don't want to overdo it."
"I'm a little tired, but I think I can stay awake for another five or ten minutes."
"It'll take longer than that," he said.
She smiled. "Not if I do my job right."
He raised his hand and touched her cheek. "I didn't think you'd be like this."
"Like what?"
"So comfortable with yourself and me. You don't mind being naked."
She surprised him by blushing. "I'm not normally like this. You make me feel comfortable." She shrugged. "Maybe comfortable isn't the right word. I can see that you want me. The way you watch me makes me feel very attractive and feminine."
"You are."
"Shut up and kiss me."
He obliged her. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth against her. She opened for him immediately and took him with a passion that sent his control into the next dimension. Suddenly he had to touch her everywhere, be with her, in her. Damn it, she was already wet and naked. What more did he want?
He touched her back, her thighs, her breasts, then fumbled for the box of protection. Even as he was sliding back on the bed, he ripped the box open and pulled out a condom. He was shaking so badly he could barely open the package.
Once he was stretched out on the mattress, she rained kisses on his chest.
"You're not helping," he said, trying to smooth the latex sheath over himself.
She wiggled against his thighs and licked a damp circle around his belly button. "I'm not trying to."
At last it was in place. He looked at her. "I want you on top. You'll have more control."
She nodded, then raised herself up on her knees. He reached his hand between them and placed the other on her hip. Inch by inch, she lowered herself on him.
He watched her face, trying to judge if he was hurting her. She closed her eyes and smiled. If her look of pleasure was anything to go by, he fit just fine. He let go of his worries as he guided her down. Every part of him focused on the damp heat surrounding him. Her body stretched to accommodate him, sliding slowly, caressing him like a benediction.
When she would have rocked her hips, he stilled her with his hands. "Not yet," he groaned, between clenched teeth.
"I told you it wouldn't take but five minutes," she murmured, her tone teasing.
He told himself it was because it had been so long, but he knew it was also about Jill. As his gaze focused on her face, then dropped lower to her breasts, he knew it was specifically about her.
The thought should have scared him to death, but strangely, it didn't.
He released his hold on her hips and she began to move. He helped her find the rhythm. As they rocked together, her body continued to stretch around him, allowing him to go deeper. He arched up, filling her until she took all of him.
"Do it," she said.
Her permission was all he needed. His mind cleared of everything but the need for release. He thrust against her quickly, moving up and down. She matched his movements, adding friction that would send him over the edge.
He tried to focus on her, on her head tilted back, on the sleek, pure lines of her neck, on the way her breasts swayed and bounced, on her hands splaying and releasing. He could feel her muscles tightening as she took pleasure in their joining. The pressure built inside him. He wouldn't be able to hold back.
He reached his hand between them, then slipped his thumb into her damp curls. He touched her most sensitive spot and pressed, allowing her to find the rhythm that would please her most. She caught her breath. He pressed harder. Instantly her body began to ripple and clench. It was all he needed. The world disappeared into a rush of pleasure so intense he lost contact with everything but the feel of her body around him and the sound of his name on her lips.
When he finally focused again, Jill sagged against him in contentment. "I could die a happy person right now," she said.
"I know what you mean."
She snuggled against him like the kitten she compared herself to. "Hmm, I can hear the vibration of your voice through your chest. Say something again."
He stroked her short hair. "What do you want me to say?"
There was no answer. He raised his head. Jill was stretched out on his chest, her eyes closed, her breathing even. Exhaustion had caught up with her.
He half rose into a sitting position so he could snag the covers. She didn't stir. He pulled the sheet and light blanket over both of them, then glanced at the clock. They had a couple of hours until the boys had to be picked up at school. He wrapped his arms around her and listened to her heart beating in time with his.
* * *
When she awoke it was night. Jill blinked in the darkness. She distinctly remembered it being daylight when she'd last been awake. She'd taken a shower and then—
She froze, terrified of the memories crashing in on her. She'd behaved like a wanton, throwing herself at Craig. Oh, Lord, what must he think of her?
She lay very still, trying to figure out if she was alone or not. This bedroom was at the back of the house, so there wasn't any streetlight filtering through the drapes to help. She listened for breathing, but didn't hear any but her own. Finally she shifted to see the clock and bumped into something very warm and very naked in her bed. She winced.
"It's nearly midnight," he said.
"Oh, my. How long have I been asleep?"
"About eight hours. I guess I tired you out."
She didn't have to see him to know he was smiling. She could hear it in his voice. A blush flared on her cheeks. "Oh, Craig, I'm sorry."
He reached for her and pulled her against him. Arms and legs tangled together until he settled back with her head on his shoulder and his arms around her.
"What are you sorry about?" he asked.
"I—" She could lie and say she was sorry for falling asleep l
ike that, but somehow she didn't think he would buy it.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.
"Yes. I feel great. Renewed, in fact." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I didn't mean to do that."
"Make love?"
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his bare skin. "I threw myself at you. I don't even want to think about it."
He chuckled. "I do. In fact, I can't seem to think about anything else."
She buried her face in his side and moaned. "I can't believe I used you the same way everyone has used me. Just to get what I wanted. I'm slime. I'm lower than slime. I'm silt sludge that aspires to be slime."
He drew away from her for a second and clicked on the bedside light. Then he fluffed up the pillows and pushed them behind him so he was sitting up.
"Number one," he said, looking at her. "No one did anything they didn't want to do, least of all me. I'm glad we made love, Jill, and I'd like it better if you didn't have any regrets, either."
"But, I—"
"No. You didn't. You didn't throw yourself at me or coerce me. I haven't been with a woman in a long time. I thought that part of me was dead. I'm glad to know it's not."
"But—"
He smiled. "You worry too much. Can't you just be happy it felt so good?"
"But isn't it going to be awkward now? What will we say to each other? How will we act in front of the boys? Doesn't this change everything?"
"No."
She waited but he didn't say anything else. "That's it? Just 'no'?"
He winked.
"Damn it, Craig."
Without warning, he slipped down the mattress and grabbed her, hauling her close. "I love it when you talk dirty," he said.
She wanted to resist. She wanted to have a rational conversation. They couldn't just ignore what had happened. Then his fingers trailed across her breasts and she thought that maybe they could.
"I don't want to hurt you if you're sore," he murmured against her breast.
"I'm fine." She ran her fingers across his chest, savoring the contrast of cool hair and warm skin. She lingered over his heart and felt the rapid pounding.
"You're sure?"
PART-TIME WIFE Page 14