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Back to the Good Fortune Diner Page 20

by Vicki Essex


  Her hips pulsed against his, coaxing, and he struggled for control. He wanted to be skin-to-skin, and the way she slid her hands up under his T-shirt to lightly scrape her nails across his back told him she was just as eager.

  This was going to end too quickly if he didn’t calm the hell down.

  He sat up. Her expression hung somewhere between relaxed and curious. Whatever happened next, he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself if he’d read her wrong. Taking the leap, he glanced around to make sure they were alone, then unsnapped the top button of his jeans.

  She eyed him hungrily, saying nothing as he kicked off his shoes and socks then reached for the hem of his T-shirt. This was going to happen, even if it was out here in the wilderness instead of in a proper bed. It had to be here, he thought a little wryly—neither of them could have gotten away with it in either of their homes.

  There was nothing shy about the way she watched him. He’d caught her staring more than once before—of course, it was possible he was being egotistic, but sultry looks had never made him feel self-conscious or objectified. No, he hadn’t minded her looking one bit. Making sure she’d get a good show now, he slowly dragged the fabric up and pulled the shirt over his head.

  Her eyes widened. She hummed, “Hmm-mmm-mmm,” and the sound reverberated across his sensitized skin. He grinned slyly and reached for his zipper.

  “Me,” she blurted, jolting upright as if volunteering for a class assignment. He couldn’t help himself as he laughed.

  Her returned giggle was the most musical thing he’d ever heard. On her knees, she maneuvered the zipper down, then hooked her fingers around his waistband, snagging his boxer briefs in the motion. Slowly, painfully, she pulled down. He sprang free, and she made that enticing hmm-mmm-mmm sound again.

  “You have condoms?” she asked breathily, eyes fixed on him.

  “In my wallet.” Call him an optimistic, opportunistic horn dog, but he’d rather be prepared than disappointed.

  She didn’t move, though. Tiffany dug her fingers into the curls around his shaft, grasping him before putting her mouth over the head and taking him in.

  Chris nearly collapsed at the slick, wet heat surrounding him, the gentle, exploring pressure of her tongue. He groaned. How long had it been? Too long, but that wasn’t what made it so good. He had to think about the latest baseball scores to keep from exploding right then and there. He didn’t want to end it this way, with him stark naked and her fully clothed on her knees.

  He pulled away from her ruthlessly, holding her shoulders. “I want you naked,” he growled.

  Her lips glistened. He helped her out of her shorts, then unbuttoned her sleeveless top to bear small, ripe breasts in a silky blush push-up bra. Her panties didn’t match—they were plain black cotton—but somehow, it fit with who she was.

  Chris gathered her into his lap, kissing her, playing with her breasts. He was hot and hungry and he couldn’t get enough. She gasped and writhed beneath his touch. How he’d ever thought her cold and unresponsive he didn’t know.

  “Do you think anyone will see us here?” she murmured, arching against him as he nibbled her neck.

  “No.” But the slight shudder that went through her made him pause. “Do you want to stop?”

  She shook her head.

  He knew instinctively they’d be safe, unwatched and alone. He’d never brought anyone here—not even Daphne. It was where he’d gone to escape his father, the farm, the pressures of school, Daphne’s dramas and his hectic social life. There’d never been any pressure to be anyone other than himself in this place. That Tiffany had secretly shared it with him all those years ago made this moment all the more wonderful.

  He slipped off the last of her clothing and with it, her reserve dissolved. He eased her down and she splayed herself across the blanket enticingly. Her flawless, pale gold skin contrasted against his sun-burnished complexion. He trailed a light touch over her stomach, and she shivered and arched into his touch.

  Oh, boy. He definitely wasn’t going to last at this rate.

  “Wanna go for a swim?” he asked.

  A skeptical look wrinkled her brow as she glanced toward the water. Before she could reply, he scooped her up and walked down to the embankment. She shrieked. “Put me down!” He didn’t listen. Instead, he waded in up to his stomach and set her gently into the warm water. He could have dropped her in with a big splash, but it didn’t feel right. He wanted to treat her like a princess.

  Her eyes never left his as she floated up to him, sliding her arms around his neck. He struggled not to moan as she pressed every inch of her body up against him.

  “I’ve had fantasies about this,” she whispered. Buoyed by the water, she wrapped her legs around his hips. His hands drifted down to cup her bottom. “Ever since I saw you here, I dreamed I’d come down to meet you and we’d...” She trailed off.

  “We’d what?” He nudged his erection against her. She was so warm.

  “We’d kiss. We’d make out. You’d touch me and I’d let you. I’d let you do anything to me....”

  He stopped her with another kiss. He had to remember the condom was still in his pants on the shore. The throbbing impulse to join their bodies in the water and make love until they both dissolved hammered through him, but he knew not to make that mistake twice.

  Steam must have been pouring off them by the time he picked her up and walked out of the water on shaky legs. Placing her gently back on the blanket, he fumbled for the condom and sheathed himself in record time. Her eyes were dark and hazy, her skin flushed. He bent to take her, but then she surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist, forcing him to a sitting position. With more speed and finesse than he thought her capable of, she poised herself above him, then sank slowly down.

  Chris buried his face against her neck, holding tight, fully enveloped. They stayed joined, breaths mingling as they both adjusted to the deep sensation. When she met his gaze, they started a slow and steady rhythm, and he struggled to hang on. His world narrowed to the taste of her lips, the smell of their mingled arousal, the friction and heat building between them. She whispered his name over and over, and she tightened with every gasp.

  His control slipped at the same time he felt the first flutterings of her climax. Clutching, clinging, they both rode the urgent wave until it crested and crashed down in a shattering roar.

  * * *

  DANIEL WATCHED HIS SISTER hum her way through a lunch shift and knew something was up. He’d heard the rumors about her and Chris, of course, but wasn’t about to put that much stock in the town gossip mill. Anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about exactly what had put that smile on her face. This was his sister, after all.

  After the lunch rush was over, Tiffany speedily wiped everything down, bringing him the empty steam trays to be washed. “I’m heading over to the farm early,” she told him. “Simon’s exams are coming up and we need to do extra prep.”

  Daniel didn’t point out that classes didn’t end until after three, and it wasn’t yet one-thirty. Compelled to say something—on Chris’s behalf if not hers—he asked, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Of course I do. Once summer school is over and I start working on math with him, it’ll be a little harder, but I’m up-to-date on my geometry. It took a couple of nights to review. Funny how quick it all comes back—”

  He interrupted her nervous ramblings. “I meant with Chris.”

  Her expression shuttered briefly, but she brightened her smile, turning up the dimmer switch to full. “You don’t need to worry about me, big brother. We have an understanding.”

  “Are you sure about that?” At her narrowed look, he said, “Look, Chris is my friend, and his ex really screwed him and Simon up. I don’t want to see you doing the same to them.”

  She grabbed a dish towel and started wiping the already pristine counter once more. “I’m not going to screw them up. Chris and I are adults. And it’s none of your business
what we do together.”

  His jaw clenched. “You still planning on going back to New York?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “And are you planning on a long-distance relationship with Chris?”

  She darted a guilty look at him. “I don’t see why you’re so worried. There’s nothing serious going on.” She took off her apron and folded it precisely.

  Tiffany was not the sort to have a fling. Daniel was sure that hadn’t changed in the fifteen years she’d been away. She thought she could get away scot-free without hurting anyone, but he knew better. She’d harbored this crush for nearly two decades. She put up a good front, but she was about as emotionally resilient as a jelly bean. It was plain to him his sister was in love.

  It wasn’t his place to judge or say anything, though. He had his own issues to work out, and was hardly qualified to tell her what not to do. All he could hope for was the best, and that his sister would be able to pick herself up after things went south.

  “Listen.” He stopped her before she left and lowered his voice. “I have something to tell you. I’m going away for a while. I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, but I thought you should know first.”

  “Going away? Where? You just got back.”

  “I don’t know.” He’d come to this decision after returning from New York. He’d actually stayed an extra day to see if there were any jobs open for a guy with an MBA and an honorary master’s in slaving over a hot stove. But his job search had turned up nothing. He’d known the impulse had been sheer insanity based on his desire to be near Selena. But as soon as he realized that, he knew he had to get away, forget her, forget anything they’d ever shared. Until he figured out who he was, found his worth as a man on his own, he couldn’t call on her ever again. “I’m going to need my car back, in any case.”

  “Wait...what?”

  “I’ll give you a loan to pay for the repairs to your car,” he said placatingly. “You can pay me back later.”

  She balked, searching him for answers. She didn’t look happy. “When are you leaving?”

  “As soon as your car is out of the shop. I know Frank’s been working on it, so it’ll probably be sometime this week. I’ve already paid him for the work, so don’t bother refusing.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? How long will you be gone?” Worry crowded her brow.

  “I don’t know.”

  She groaned. “Mom and Dad are going to flip out.”

  He nodded. They’d be mad, of course, and he’d have to leave right away or risk getting trapped by guilt and duty. Poh-poh would be the hardest to tell—she would probably cry and beg him to stay. He could never say no to his grandmother.

  “I have to go. I need to find myself, figure out who I am, where I fit in this world.”

  Her expression blanked. She was probably trying to decide whether to be outraged or frightened, or perhaps even understanding. It hadn’t been an easy decision. She’d told him about how much their parents had fought while he’d been away. But he couldn’t be their referee for the rest of his life. He’d already stayed too long.

  * * *

  TIFFANY GRIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL HARD, wishing for once that the drive to Chris’s was longer.

  Thoughts ran circles through her brain. Daniel was leaving. Her brother was fleeing the nest, abandoning her here alone to fend for herself against her parents....

  No, that wasn’t what was really bothering her. This identity crisis had come about because of what she’d said. He’d been depressed since he’d returned from New York, and Tiffany was sure it was about Selena. She kicked herself for ever doubting his feelings and questioning his suitability. As strong-willed as he was, his self-confidence was surprisingly fragile. She’d acted like a superior bitch, and it was eating her from the inside out.

  She thought about what he’d said about hurting Chris’s feelings, but didn’t want to dwell on why his remarks had bothered her. She and Chris had had great sex, but that was it. He knew she wasn’t going to stay in Everville. A summer tryst was all they could ever have. And it wasn’t as though he could live up to fifteen years of daydreams and fantasies. The scorching heat between them would flare and burn out quickly. Once they were out of each other’s systems, they’d go back to their regular lives. An extended commitment would only suffocate them both.

  They were already getting too comfy with each other as it was. She’d tried to limit her exposure, but the more she pulled away, the more she pined for him. If she didn’t seek him out, he would find her. And he’d get her to follow him on some pretense to the barn, shed, greenhouse, tack room or whichever building was unoccupied. Then he’d quietly close the door, press her up against the wall and kiss her until her knees turned to butter.

  It’s just a fling. She repeated the cold mantra quietly even as warmth rushed between her legs. All good flings must come to an end.

  The most dangerous thing was that part of her wished it could last. Chris was everything she’d always wanted in a man—strong but gentle, playful, and hot as hell. But she couldn’t imagine a life here with him. The farm, his son, his father—none of that had ever figured in the life she’d pictured for herself. Her career—everything she’d studied for and worked for and sacrificed for—was going to be in the city. New York was the center of the publishing world, and the path to becoming an editor began and ended there. After all her hard work, she wasn’t willing to settle for anything less. She wouldn’t sacrifice her dreams to become a farmer’s wife.

  When she pulled up, Chris was waiting for her on the porch. He stood in one smooth motion, a lazy, suggestive smile on his face. All thoughts of Daniel and New York and the future fled as he strolled up to her car.

  “Hey,” he said as she got out. He slipped his callused hand over hers surreptitiously and squeezed. By silent agreement, they’d kept their relationship under wraps, which meant no public displays of affection. Even so, the space between them was kept at a minimum. “You’re here early.”

  “And you were waiting. Don’t you have a cow to milk or something?” she teased.

  He moved closer, backing her up against the door, and his hips brushed against hers. “Something needs milking, all right.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “My father’s out at a doctor’s appointment. He’ll be gone all afternoon.”

  A shiver of pleasure rippled over her skin as he trailed his fingertips up her arm, and she remembered the erotic way he’d licked the gravy off her. Without another word, he turned toward the house, and she followed like a besotted puppy dog.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IN THE HOUSE, Chris pulled her into his arms and kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in months. He cupped her bottom, the same way he had at the swimming hole. She obligingly wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing the center of her need against his rock-hard heat. She flung her purse onto the dining-room table as he carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he laid her on the bed. They wriggled out of their clothes quickly. With her naked skin sliding between the smooth, cool bedsheets and Chris’s hot, hard body, she felt absolutely hedonistic.

  She didn’t question the rightness of the way he made love to her. He wasn’t frantic or hurried in his ministrations, but the intensity in his kisses and caresses and long, hard strokes kept her riding the brittle edge between pleasure and ecstasy. The bed was soft and smelled faintly of sandalwood. The way the room glowed, as the afternoon sunlight slanted through the window, reminded her of a sepia-toned snapshot and made her long for more stolen moments like this. She closed her eyes to relish the delicious sensation of him moving over and inside her, clutching him close as they found their pleasure together. When they finally came, she whispered a secret wish to the sky, letting her heart soar with it.

  Blood thrumming, she lay in his arms, head resting against his slightly damp chest. She listened to the hard drum of his heart slow to a strong, steady beat. He stroked her hair absently. Neither of them spoke as their breathing evened
out. Normally, she wasn’t into the sticky business of cuddling, and had never really enjoyed her previous partners’ heavy limbs trapping her in bed. But Chris was different. He held her as though she were precious.

  She must have drifted off because all of a sudden, her eyes snapped open. Something had woken her. She sat up, disoriented.

  “What time is it?” She nudged Chris as she fumbled for her panties.

  He stirred and groped for the alarm clock on the nightstand. His hair was sticking out in all directions. “Almost four. Damn.” He levered up and dragged his hands over his face. “I was hoping to get one more go in before Simon came home.” He peeked up over his fingers with a smile.

  It was meant to be a joke, but his words niggled. This had been a pleasant afternoon diversion—it was what she’d wanted and all she could expect. She shouldn’t get huffy because she was a booty call.

  “I’m going to clean up and head downstairs,” she said. “Take your time in here.”

  In minutes, she’d dressed and brushed her hair out and retied it into a tidy, efficient ponytail. Her makeup was in her purse downstairs. She needed to touch up the lip gloss Chris had kissed off. She probably wouldn’t need much else, though. She was rosy cheeked and bright-eyed, and a nice healthy glow radiated from her normally pale skin. Sex was the best makeover, it seemed. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about the stubble burn on her neck, and she didn’t have time to shower and get Chris’s earthy musk off her skin. She’d have to take those little souvenirs home and hope no one noticed.

  She grinned to herself as she headed down to the dining room, but at the foot of the stairs she stopped cold.

  Simon sat in the kitchen, a can of soda in hand. He took her in from head to toe, and Tiffany knew by the glimmer in his eyes that she was well and truly busted.

  “Hey,” he greeted her, not taking his dark eyes off her as he took a long swig of his soda. His expression was unreadable, neither disappointed, happy or even speculative.

 

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