For a Good Time Call

by Trish Jensen

  During the important years, he’d been at the mercy of two unhappy human beings, and it had colored his world. He hadn’t been taught to love and accept love. Romantic love was a completely foreign emotion to him.

  And though it hurt more than it should to realize that he never could be the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, at least she respected his honesty. He was telling her up front what his limitations were.

  In that sense, he’d relinquished control. If she told him to take a hike this minute, he’d do it without hesitation. If she told him she never wanted to see him again outside of business, he’d agree.

  Though Kit was obviously attracted to her, wanted her, he could never love her. She ached for him, ached for herself. Under other circumstances, he’d be everything she was looking for. And if he weren’t so jaded, if the pain of his childhood didn’t tarnish every aspect of his life, she might have found a way to help him heal.

  But he didn’t want to heal. He wanted that pain to wrap around him as a shield against ever feeling it again. So he couldn’t give her what she wanted. But perhaps, at least in a small way, she could give him what he needed.

  She set aside her stick and turned to him. “Kit?”

  “Yes?” he answered, without looking at her.

  “I’m not hungry any longer.”

  Then he did turn to her, and the glimmer in his eyes was about equal parts panic and regret. “You . . . want to leave?”

  She shook her head. “I want you to take me to bed.”

  His eyes went wide. “What?” he whispered, in a raw rasp.

  “You heard me.”

  “Sherry, it . . . it won’t change anything. You have to know that before anything happens between us.”

  “I know it.”

  “I mean, I want that, too. You have no idea how much I want that.”

  “Good. Then what’s the problem?”

  He followed her lead and abandoned his hot dog. Plowing both hands through his hair, he stared bleakly into the fire. “I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you. I . . . I like you a lot. I respect you.”

  “I’m going into this, eyes wide.”

  “Oh, God!” he said, dropping his forehead to his knees.

  She touched his shoulder, and he flinched. “What’s wrong?” she asked, feeling a little swell of panic herself. Here she sat offering him exactly what he wanted, and he seemed to be changing his mind.

  “Sherry.” He whispered her name like a caress. “You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me.”

  “This is my choice to make. I’ve made it.”

  He swiveled his head and gazed at her. “I’ve wanted this for so long, can’t remember what my life was like before I started dreaming of it. Dreaming of you. But now, I don’t know if I can—”

  “You can,” she said with a slight smile. “I have every confidence in you.”

  He moved so swiftly, Sherry didn’t have time to react. Before she could even gasp, he’d turned to face her and hauled her to her knees, clutching her shoulders. “Tell me you won’t regret this.”

  “I won’t,” she said, with much more confidence than she felt.

  “Tell me you won’t hate me when it’s over.”

  That one she could promise much more easily. Although she knew she was taking a big risk, she also knew she could never hate the tortured man before her. “I won’t hate you, Kit.”

  A low moan passed through his lips. “I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more in my life. I want you so much it’s killing me.”

  “I’m all yours, Christian Fleming.”

  He breathed a curse word before yanking her against him. Staring down at her, he made promises with his eyes that stole her sanity. No promises of forever, just of the here and now. He was giving her this moment, and Sherry knew it had to be enough.

  Deliberately, she tugged his shirt from his jeans. He raised his arms, and she pulled it up and off, then tossed it aside. “Oh, Kit,” she whispered at her first glimpse of his bare chest. It was breathtakingly beautiful, with a light sprinkling of golden brown hair. His shoulders were wide and powerful, his flesh smooth, his ribs and abdominal muscles rigidly defined.

  She laid her hands on his chest, feeling his incredible heat. Her palms slid upward as she reveled in touching him.

  “Sherry,” he murmured, his eyes sliding shut. “I’m . . . dying, here.”

  “You are very much alive.”

  Sherry’s husky laughter floated on the warm midsummer breeze. Excited beyond her wildest imaginings, she let all of her misgivings melt into nothing but raw, aching need. She cupped his jaw, loving the raspy feel of his day-old growth of beard. Then her hands dropped to his leather belt.

  He grabbed her wrists, opening his eyes. “My turn.” With deliberately slow movements, he unbuttoned her blouse. Tossing it onto his shirt, he immediately slid her bra straps from her shoulders, letting them dangle at her upper arms.

  He bent his head, and worshipped the hollow of her shoulder, sending chills of delight racing through her. His lips traveled up her neck to her ear, and he gently bit at the lobe. His hands skimmed over her shoulders, then down to her shoulder blades, and he worked the clasp until she felt it snap open.

  “I love the way you smell,” he said. “I’ll never forget your scent as long as I live.” He pulled her bra from her arms and tossed it aside. He swallowed hard as his gaze devoured her naked breasts. “I knew it. Oh, God, I knew.”

  In one swift move, he lifted her up and laid her down, then fell beside her, taking a breast into his mouth. Sherry arched up with a cry as the sensation rocked her. Not just the tugging pull from his lips, but the tickling of her skin where his hair had fallen forward to whisper over it.

  Sherry pressed his head against her as a pulsing began deep in her belly. “Hurry, Kit. Please, hurry,” she pleaded.

  “No way,” he growled. “I want this to last.” But he did start to remove her shoes, jeans and panties. When he’d finished he sat back and just stared at her. Every inch of her.

  His gaze was so filled with awe she knew no embarrassment. She bent a knee, and reached for his belt once more. “Your turn again,” she whispered.

  While she unbuckled, he removed his wallet from his back pocket and took out a handful of foil packets. Sherry almost laughed. If they used them all, they might be there for a week.

  Kit stood just long enough to get rid of the rest of his clothing, and Sherry fairly gaped as she soaked in the vision of him in his entirety. He was magnificent. And for tonight, he was all hers. “Come here,” she demanded.

  Kit quickly joined her, pulling her into his arms. For a long, lingering moment they lay body to body, flesh to flesh, male to female. Her aching breasts pressed into his ribs, and she squirmed a little to relieve the pressure.

  Kit groaned, then pulled back. “Lord, Sherry, I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

  And suddenly his hands were everywhere, skimming over her body in erotic strokes, making her quiver with ecstasy. She’d never felt this way before, as if she would die if she couldn’t draw him inside her soon. She needed him to possess her more than she’d ever needed anything in her life.

  Her fingers roamed over his torso, marveling at the muscle and sinew just below the surface of his skin. He was a powerful man, and she wanted to reduce him to a trembling mass of need, just as he was doing to her.

  She reached for him, but he quickly stayed her wrist, forcing her arm over her head. Then he did the same with the other, as he straddled her hips. Leaning over her, he kissed her thoroughly, until she shook with her desire.

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes glittering green in the firelight. His hair fell over his forehead and looked adorably sexy. “How much do you want me?” he asked in a raw whisper.

  “Terribly.”

  As he lowered his head, he smiled. “It won’t be terrible, Sherry. I promise you that.”

  “Oh, I know,” she moaned. “I kno
w.”

  His lips traveled down her body, exciting her to a pitch she’d never reached before. When his tongue circled her bellybutton, she cried out. “Please,” she started chanting, the words coming out in breathless puffs. “Please, please, please.”

  His mouth moved back up to her breasts, first one, then the other, while his fingers started probing her below. Sherry cried out again as he caressed her, making her slick with wanting him.

  “Now, Kit. Now.”

  He sat up and grabbed a condom, tearing the foil savagely with his teeth. He rolled it into place, then stared at her for a long moment before positioning himself above her. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “You.”

  “Where?”

  “Inside me, over me . . . everywhere.”

  He thrust into her then, and Sherry emitted a sharp cry at the initial stab of pain. He went dead still, staring at her in horror. “Oh, my God! You’re a—”

  “No,” she interrupted, as the pain subsided, and all she felt was a tingling of need. Of aching unfulfillment she needed him to address. “I’m not. It’s just been a long time.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Do . . . it,” she gritted out, so close to losing her mind. “Take me.”

  Slowly, tentatively, he began a gentle rocking motion, which did more to heighten her need than slake it. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and grasped his hard buttocks, demanding more. Or begging for more. She didn’t know which any longer.

  “Harder,” she demanded hoarsely. “I’m not a china doll.”

  Kit complied, stroking into her harder, faster and deeper. And just as she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she reached her climax, rolling through her in overwhelming waves.

  She screamed. His name.

  Just as the incredible sensation began to subside, Kit thrust into her once, twice, three times, grinding out the words, “This . . . feels . . . so good.”

  Her fingernails dug into the damp flesh of his back as she felt his arousal pulse inside her, and her climax began again.

  She screamed. His name. Again.

  “Sherry, Sherry, Sherry,” he gasped as he continued to thrust into her, drawing out her pleasure.

  Finally he slowed, then stopped and buried his head against her neck, his breaths hot and fast against her sensitive flesh. The muscles in his back eased under her fingertips.

  For a long, long time they held each other, both trying to recover. For Sherry, she knew no amount of time would ever be enough. She’d never recover from this.

  Because she’d fallen in love with him.

  Eleven

  She’d fallen in love with him.

  Sherry squeezed her eyes shut as the horrible realization dawned on her. She’d gone and done what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do. She’d neatly tied up her heart in ribbons of love, and handed it to him.

  Kit pushed up to his elbows and gazed down at her, the sensual satisfaction in his eyes magnificent to behold. She didn’t remember any man looking at her like that. Ever.

  Her throat closed up. There were no words, except the ones he didn’t want to hear. She blinked the swimming moisture from her eyes.

  “Hey!” he whispered. “Why the tears?” Then he went stiff. “I hurt you.”

  Oh, God, yes. He’d hurt her, but not in the way he thought. And she couldn’t even blame him, because he’d warned her from the beginning. She blinked again, and gave him a shaky smile. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Still joined, he rolled them over, until she lay straddled on top of him. She put her hands on his chest and sat up straighter. Immediately his eyes went to her breasts, and he audibly gulped. “Damn, Sherry, you’re something else.”

  “Something else,” she repeated, not feeling particularly else-like. No indeed, she was the same Sherry, a woman for whom love and sexuality were inextricably combined. She didn’t have it in her to make love and walk away.

  But this time, she would walk away. Not for her own sake, surely, but for Kit’s. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t take their lovemaking more seriously than that, and as far as she was concerned, she would keep that promise, at least on the outside. She loved him that much. She conjured a wan smile from the bottom of her bruised soul. “Thank you, Mr. Fleming, for keeping your promise.”

  One brown brow arched, and he shot her a lazy smile, while his fingers traced her hip bones. “What promise was that?”

  Her sweet smile brightened. She was determined to keep things light, no matter how much it hurt. “Well, I wasn’t really sane at the time, but I could swear I might have let out a short squeal or two there.”

  His chuckle rumbled through her. “Lady, you scared the birds out of the trees.”

  “Did I scare you?”

  His smile deepened. “Not hardly. You drove me wild with it.”

  She bent down and folded her arms over his chest, crushing her breasts against him. “Yup, you’re a wild man all right.”

  Kit groaned. “You wouldn’t believe what you do to me.”

  She stifled a sob, because what she wanted to do with him would never happen. But she had tonight, and she fully planned on making the most of it. If she couldn’t have the man for the rest of her life, she’d at least have her memories. Small compensation, but the best she’d get.

  “Let’s do it again,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his.

  His hands slid up her back, and gooseflesh rose in their wake. She shivered.

  “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

  The endearment was almost the last straw. It wasn’t the first time he’d called her that, but the sentiment now meant more than it should. More than he intended it to mean. She shook her head. “It’s a warm night.”

  “Then why are you shivering?”

  “I . . .” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. “I like your hands on me.”

  “That’s good, because I plan on having them on you a lot tonight.”

  Tonight. Since Sherry was close to breaking down, which she didn’t want him to witness, she held his handsome face and kissed him deeply. He responded instantly, his hands tightening on her waist as he rocked his lower body upward.

  The kiss turned frantic. Sherry couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t draw him in deep enough so she’d never have to let him go.

  Abruptly he lifted her off him, his breaths ragged. She started to protest, but he held up a hand. “I have business to take care of first, sweetheart. Just give me a minute.”

  She watched, fascinated, as he took care of protection. He seemed somewhat amused by her unblinking absorption in the task.

  “Sherry?” he said, as he disposed of the used condom.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Take a look in the picnic basket. There’s something in there that might interest you.”

  Reluctantly she dragged her gaze from him and pulled the basket closer. Searching through the contents, a smile tugged at her lips. “You have the makings for s’mores.”

  “Yup, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Brow furrowed, she dug deeper. Then suddenly, she burst out laughing, as she pulled a bottle of Hershey’s Syrup from the basket. Glancing up, she caught him smiling at her in a way that almost made her heart explode. “What?”

  “I like making you laugh,” he admitted quietly. “Your laughter’s as pretty as the rest of you.”

  The guy didn’t know it, but for a completely unromantic fool, he sure said the sweetest things on occasion. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” he replied, leering at her. He held out his hand. “Okay, hand it over.”

  She drew back. “Nope.”

  His smile transformed into a look of consternation. “No?”

  Sherry shook her head, then pushed him down to his back. Tossing aside the bottle of syrup she said, “Who needs chocolate? I want you raw.”

  His uncertainty shone in his
troubled eyes. “I … don’t know.”

  “Afraid to give up the dominant position?”

  “Well . . . a little.”

  Sherry was surprised by his admission. But then she realized she shouldn’t have been. He’d made several admissions tonight that had to have been painful. She lay down next to him on her side. “Let go, Kit,” she said softly. “Just lie back and let me love you this time.”

  “I—I’ve never—”

  She bent over him and swiped her tongue over his nipple. He sucked in a noisy breath. “God, Sherry,” was all he said, but there was a tone of surrender in those two words.

  When Sherry woke up, she realized she was in a bed. Early morning light came through the window, bathing the room in a reddish-gold glow. She stretched, and every muscle she owned protested, a pleasurably painful reminder of the previous night.

  Kit’s scent was everywhere, filling her with delight. Lord, she loved his masculine fragrance. She rolled over, fully expecting him to be in bed beside her. But he wasn’t. Disappointment replaced delight, but she shrugged it off. She’d just spent the most wonderful night of her life.

  She fluffed her pillow and then the extra one, inhaling deeply the subtle tang of Kit’s aftershave. Stacking them, she lay back, arms thrown over her head, as she relived every incredible moment.

  They’d made love so many times she’d lost count. Time had hung suspended as they’d taken turns worshipping each other. She’d never felt so treasured, so cherished.

  And then, sometime in the night, she’d become drowsy, and had yawned widely. He’d grinned down at her, then tucked her into the crook of his shoulder. His fingers had stroked through her hair, over and over, in a gentle, delicious rhythm that had lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

  At some point he must have picked her up and carried her to the house, because she didn’t remember walking—

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, as hazy memories started taking shape in her head.

  “It’s getting chilly out here, sweet,” she somehow thought he’d murmured in her ear. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Too comfy,” she believed she’d mumbled.