by Reese Ryan
My gaze meets his penetrating stare, like a panther sizing up his prey. It unravels me. My knees tremble in response and any concerns about what I’m getting myself into quickly shift to the back of my mind. My only concern, at this moment, is the feel of his hands on my skin.
I lift my blouse over my head and toss it onto a chair. Pulse racing, I guide his hands to the front closure of my red satin bra.
He unhooks it in a single motion and trails kisses down my neck and shoulder as he slides the straps down my arms. The gust of cool air against my hypersensitive nipples only heightens my arousal. He palms my breasts as he continues raining kisses down my body toward nipples already taut, begging for attention.
He swirls his firm tongue around my nipple a few times before flicking it across the sensitive flesh. I let out a long sigh in response.
Moaning softly, I grind my hips against him and twist his hair around my trembling fingers. The space between my thighs grows warmer and wetter. I’m floating in a feeling that is intoxicating and torturous all at the same time. But as good as this feels, I’m ready for more.
I press my hands into his chest, creating a sliver of space between us. Then I grab his hand and lead him to my bedroom.
The twenty or so steps to my bed seem like the longest walk I’ve ever taken. My nipples throb from his sucking and teasing, my heart is beating like a drum and there’s a steady, dull ache emanating from between my thighs. Every erogenous zone on my body is doing a celebration dance, like farmers welcoming the first drops of rain. My body is completely in line with my decision. My head feels the need to interfere.
Why are we doing this? I’m about to leave.
Did I make my bed?
I hope I wore matching underwear today.
What’s going to happen after this?
Maybe we shouldn’t...
We stop at the foot of the bed and look at it for an instant, then at each other.
I place my hands on his chest and lean into him, forcing my eyes to meet his. It’s exceedingly difficult to divert my gaze from his body. The man is sex poured into a glass on ice with a twist of lemon. And I want him.
God, do I want him.
“Is this one of those moments we’re going to seriously regret in the morning?” My voice comes out shaky and for the first time since we started this I’m very conscious of the fact that we’re both half-naked.
He kisses my palm, then my fingertips. “I could never regret this,” he says. “What about you?”
“No,” I say. “No regrets.”
I lean into him and press my mouth on his. He lifts me slightly, puts one knee on the bed and then lowers his body on mine.
He brushes loose curls from my face. “You’re fucking gorgeous. You know that?” He kisses me again before I respond. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to say that? To tell you how much I need you? I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
“Yes, you should have. But perhaps you can make it up to me.” I flash him a naughty smile as I trace his deliciously full lips with my thumb.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a devilish grin. He presses his mouth against mine. His tongue dives in immediately. Mine invites it to a passionate dance. A rehearsal for the union I hope will soon take place.
But Raine has something else in mind.
He rolls off me and slides his hand down my stomach, which I try hard to hold in. He kisses my belly and slides his fingertips back and forth underneath the waistband of my jeans. A difficult task, since there’s very little room to spare. He unfastens the button and slowly unzips them.
Raine peels off the jeans that are practically a second skin and pushes them off onto the floor, an act I’m willing to overlook. He removes his jeans and tosses them next to mine.
He bites his lower lip as he studies me lying, trembling, on the bed in nothing but a pair of red satin panties.
I feel exposed in a way I never have before. Butterflies do a synchronized waltz inside my stomach. My chest rises and falls rapidly. I’m eager, but try not to show it. And a little uneasy, but I try not to show that either.
Raine has been my Taye Diggs. The hot guy you fantasize about but never delude yourself into thinking you can actually have. So while I’ll admit to the fantasy, the realization that he’s actually in my bed is a little unnerving.
He kisses my neck. My breasts. My stomach. Above my waistband, which he is now edging down, taking a peek. I lift my hips to help him remove my panties. I can feel the dampness against my skin as he slides them down my leg.
I could practically tongue-kiss Debbie the next time I see her. Thank God she’d suggested we go swimming yesterday. My legs, and other regions, are freshly shaved and bare.
Raine plants soft, delicate kisses along my belly, pelvic bone and inner thigh. My body responds with a sharp inhalation to his warm lips pressing against my throbbing clit. I grip the bedding and writhe as he teases it with his tongue. I bite my lower lip and practically hold my breath in an attempt to muffle the sounds trying to escape as I’m overcome by a wave of intense pleasure.
It feels as if I’m about to implode from this delicious feeling of complete and utter ecstasy. Is that possible? Death by sex? Because it seems like a very real possibility.
Suddenly he stops. I’ve barely taken a breath before he dives his nimble tongue inside me and works its magic.
Oh...my...God.
I moan and thrust against him, wanting, needing more. He’s only too happy to oblige. He threads his arms through my legs then presses his fingers inside my thighs, splaying them further open and anchoring my bottom to the bed.
My soft whimpering escalates to match the increased speed of his tongue, dipping in and out of my slick core. My lips part and my chin lifts as I ride this intense wave of pleasure. My breath becomes quick and ragged as he sends me spiraling into an orgasm that is like a jolt of electricity delivered to every inch of my body.
He looks up at me and smiles.
“You must be pretty proud of yourself.” I smirk and press my knees together, heart still racing.
The canary-worthy grin he offers in response confirms this suspicion. He slides off his underwear, exposing a distinctive scar on his hip, several inches in length.
I trace it gently with my fingertips. “What happened?”
He lowers his head. His body tenses. “Car accident.” His voice is low, the words nearly running together. “It was a really long time ago.”
I raise myself on one elbow, lean forward and trail delicate kisses along the red, raised skin. He relaxes, and his waning erection lengthens again.
He regains his focus and snatches his jeans off the floor, fumbling in the pocket for a condom. Then he peels the foil and slowly rolls it up the length of his shaft.
I take a deep breath as he guides his thick erection inside me. A slight gasp escapes my lips. He stops.
“Is this okay?” His hand is on my cheek.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You sure?”
“I’m fine,” I say a little too quickly.
He continues inching his way in, stroking gently at first.
Jamie always says never let a guy know how good it is the first time. Give him something to work for the next time. I’ve definitely broken that rule. The raspy growl that escapes my lips is completely beyond my control.
I’ve never had this kind of multi-orgasmic experience or been with a man as eager to please me as he is to be pleased. There are few times in my life when reality has exceeded the dream. This is certainly one of them.
After we make love, we collapse onto the bed, sweaty, exhausted and satiated. Raine wraps his arms around my waist and cradles my body against his. He nuzzles his face into my neck and pulls the covers over us.
“That was fucking amazing.�
� He kisses the side of my face.
“It was.” I break into a grin. “You, sir, are a man with many hidden talents.”
He laughs and tightens his embrace. “Can I ask you something?”
I tense slightly, but the smile never leaves my lips. “Anything.”
“Would it be alright if I spent the night?”
“If you can handle seeing me first thing in the morning, so can I.” I giggle, nervous about hosting my first overnight guest since...well...the Ice Age.
He pulls me against him, his chin resting on my head. “I think I can handle it.”
Within minutes he is sleeping soundly, snoring softly. Within an hour, so am I.
Chapter Five
Saturday morning I awake alone, tangled in the sheet. I roll over and look at the clock. It’s ten-thirty. Sitting up, I look around for evidence of my night with Raine. I need confirmation that it wasn’t an exceedingly vivid fantasy. Raine’s clothes are no longer on the floor where he’d tossed them last night, but I smell food and hear pots clanging.
Slipping from under the covers, I hurry into the bathroom, grateful I won’t be forced to do an awkward sheet shimmy.
The mirror reveals what Raine must have seen this morning. Hair smashed flat on one side, crust in the corners of my eyes—and is that dried drool? I shudder.
Standing under the steaming hot water in the shower, I lather my hair, replaying the night before. Finally I emerge from the bathroom in my bathrobe—teeth brushed, body scrubbed, hair washed and pulled into a neat, low bun.
I follow the tantalizing aroma of breakfast. Raine stands at the stove barefoot in jeans and an undershirt. He turns toward the sound of my footsteps. His eyes light up and he breaks into a grin that flexes every muscle in his face. The last time someone was this glad to see me, I had to take him for a walk and give him doggy treats.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” He leans in to kiss me then quickly returns his attention to the skillet. “Hungry?”
“You cuddle. You spend the night. You make breakfast.” I shake my head. “Are you for real? ’Cause I’ve seen this in Lifetime movies. It doesn’t end well.”
When he looks away quickly, I’m afraid I’ve offended him. But then the right side of his mouth turns up in a half smile.
“Consider yourself the beneficiary of two decades of trial and error,” he says. “Or maybe this is all part of my evil plan.” He raises his eyebrows up and down manically.
“So there is an evil plan. Well, that’s a relief.” I smile. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s a lot more to you than you let on.” I gently trace the sword tattoo on his right arm with my fingertips.
Raine offers a quick smile before he focuses on his cooking again. He slides a spatula underneath the omelet he’s cooking and gently flips it. “Like I said, things were crazy for a few years. My mother likes to call it my ‘Tattoo Period.’”
“Looks like you were quite the badass.” I touch the faded blue head of a large phoenix across his back. “Exactly how many tattoos do you have?”
“Four. One on each arm. One on my chest. One on my back. It only looks like more because of their size.” He picks up a strip of bacon and offers it to me. I take a bite. “That’s practically a choir boy by NBA standards.”
“True.” I nibble on the bacon. “Still, there must be a helluva story behind every one of those.”
“There is.” A hint of perturbance flashes behind stormy gray eyes. “But that’s a conversation for another day.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a subdued smile as he hands me another piece of bacon.
“Okay,” I concede, taking a seat behind the breakfast bar. “I’m absolutely starving and everything smells and tastes delicious. I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed.”
“Don’t be. It’s the only meal in my repertoire.” His shoulders relax and he smiles. “Got any plans this weekend?”
At least a hundred things I should be doing come to mind. There are plans to make and five years of my life to pack. “Nothing really.”
“I thought we could hang out this weekend.”
“Sounds nice. What did you have in mind?”
“How about a picnic in the park this afternoon?”
“A picnic? I haven’t been on one since I was a kid.”
My dad loved picnics. We would each make our own sandwiches. Mom would make one of her homemade apple pies. We’d play bocce ball. I haven’t thought about those family picnics for years.
I can see and hear my dad so clearly. His broad smile. The glint in his eyes. His contagious laugh. I miss him. But I’m taken off guard by how much I miss the other faces around that picnic blanket—my mother, my sister and Jamie.
“You alright?” Raine sets breakfast in front of me.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about...a picnic.” I smile. “I’d love to go.”
“Great. Now, try this.” He feeds me the spinach omelet he’s been making.
“Delish.” I take the fork from him, stab another forkful and shove it into my mouth.
He pours me a glass of orange juice.
“What else is on the agenda this weekend?” I ask between bites of omelet.
Raine stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Let’s just say omelets and orange juice aren’t the only O I plan to give you this weekend.” He laughs when I drop my fork. “I have a few errands to run this morning and I need to go home and change first,” he continues.
“Would it be easier if I just got dressed and went with you?” I ask, hoping for a chance to see his place.
“No,” he says quickly. “I mean, it won’t take me long. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. When I get back maybe I can show you a few more of my...hidden talents.”
Clearing my throat, I try to smile demurely. “I think that can be arranged.” I take a sip of orange juice.
“Then it’s a date.” Raine turns my chair around and kisses me long and hard. A kiss that melts me like a pudding pop dropped on a sizzling summer sidewalk.
I squeeze my eyes shut and remind myself not to get used to this. In a few days I’ll be back in Cleveland for a visit. Less than a month from now my fling with Raine will be nothing more than a pleasant memory.
So why am I missing him from the moment the door clicks shut?
Chapter Six
I navigate Cleveland Hopkins International Airport with my carry-on bag in tow. When I step through the sliding glass doors, I’m greeted by the noticeably cooler Cleveland air.
This ain’t San Francisco.
I look for Jamie’s beat-up Ford Explorer. It isn’t here. I flip open my cell phone and call her.
“You curbside yet?” she asks.
“I just walked through the doors,” I say, looking around.
“Okay, I see you.”
“I don’t see you.”
“I’m right here.” Jamie pulls up and grins at me.
Walking up to the black BMW 535i, I peer inside. “Should I expect a police chase on the ride home?” I ask my starving artist friend, who is clearly not the owner of this car.
“Shut up and get in already.” Jamie pops the trunk.
I lift the trunk, checking for the tied-up vehicle owner. All clear. I put my bag in the trunk and get in the car. “You look fantastic, James.” I examine a few strands of her coal-black hair, accented with light and dark shades of auburn. “I love the highlights.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
Jamie’s perpetual smoky eye shadow is replaced by a subtler framing of her shimmering green eyes with delicate shades of fawn, mocha and copper. A barely there shade of pink is on her lips.
“Oh my God! Jamie, you look incredible! What happened to the woman who insisted goth is forever?”
Jamie shrugs. “
People change. I just wanted to try something a little different. You really like it? You’re not just saying that to be nice?”
I survey my friend. She’s wearing a pair of jeans with no rips, holes or tears and a simple green blouse. “You look amazing. I mean it.”
“Thanks!” Jamie hugs me tightly. I’m taken aback. Jamie has never been big on displays of affection. She tolerates them but rarely initiates them. Her birth parents showed her little affection. It’s one of the reasons she’s such a hard ass. She wears her tough-girl exterior like an exoskeleton. Moments like this are rare.
“I’m so glad you’re coming home. You know I’m a complete mess without you.”
I smile. “I miss you, too.”
An officer taps the window. “Keep it moving, ladies!”
“Alright! Alright!” Jamie huffs before throwing the car into gear and pulling off.
“This is really nice.” I survey the beige leather interior and light wood trim. “Who’s the owner, and how much of a head start do we have on him?”
Jamie once dated a guy who boosted cars to pay his college tuition. Maybe she got more than just mono from the guy.
“Give me a little credit, Mel. I haven’t knowingly been in a stolen car in years.”
I cringe. “So what’s the story on this one?” I settle back against the seat, my arms folded.
Jamie looks straight ahead, concentrating on the road. Not her usual sightseeing-while-driving style. She clears her throat. “First I’d better tell you what’s been going on with me.”
I contort in my seat so my body faces hers. “What do you mean? It’s not like we don’t talk regularly. You’ve been holding out on me?”
She frowns as she glances over her shoulder and merges into the right lane. “Maybe I was afraid I’d jinx it.”
“Jinx what? What’s going on?”
My heart beats a little faster. Jamie’s surprises are rarely good. The more low-key she is about them, the worse they are. She’s been known to say things like: “Oh, by the way I’m going to be evicted this week,” or “I stabbed a guy who tried to mug me the other day. He might die,” in the same nonchalant manner someone else might say, “It’s raining outside” or “The mail is here.”