by Amber Cross
Abby was already in the pool. Despite the cap protecting her thick mane of chestnut hair, he could tell it was her tearing up the far lane with an impressive butterfly stroke. No one else had a figure like hers. Last night he had committed every curve and hollow to memory, carrying the images into his dreams. He would never forget the alluring sight of her, cast in shadows by the lamps behind her, silhouetted against the balcony doors. He could find her in the dark. And he wanted to.
But right now she seemed to have a lot of energy to burn. When she reached the end of the lane where he stood, she flipped and vaulted away from him. He didn’t think she had seen him. Had probably given up on him, since he was well over half an hour late, but Darcy had been up sick early this morning, and he couldn’t leave until she was again sleeping comfortably.
Then he’d hurried out of the condo and drove across town as fast as he could safely go. He hadn’t even stopped to warm up the car or scrape the windshield, instead using the washer feature to wet the glass and the wipers to clear a space large enough to see where he was going while the defrost caught up.
He didn’t have a swimsuit. There had been no reason to pack one at the end of December. Even if he did, it would have been too late for him to join her, and he would have missed out on watching this display of what was, frankly, a talented athlete in action.
He could swim, but she was like a submarine, gliding through the water at top speed, then lunging to the surface for air before going under again.
At exactly nine o’clock she pulled herself out of the pool by the arms and swung her legs around until she was seated on the concrete apron. Her breathing was choppy. It took several moments for her to regulate it, her chest heaving and her stomach hollowing out, her legs slightly shaking. Then she stood and turned toward the plastic bench where he was standing.
“Oh!”
If his reflexes were any slower, she would have ended up in the water again. Leaping to his feet, he managed to grab her before she fell over backward.
She sputtered. Her face colored.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” She put a hand to her chest the way people do when they are trying to get their heart to stop galloping. “I thought you hadn’t come.”
They stood there awkwardly for a moment. An inch, maybe two, separated their torsos. He held her soft upper arms in his grasp and could barely resist the urge to pull her closer. For the last two weeks they had been getting to know one another by telephone, had worked themselves into a sexual frenzy, and now they were in a public place with people doing laps, small children taking lessons at the shallow end of the pool, and a water aerobics class in progress on the other side.
He wanted to have her all to himself. “Shall we go?”
“I have to change first.”
Of course she did. But he didn’t have to like it, because it meant another delay. More waiting before he could pick up where they left off in her car two weeks ago.
His disappointment must have been obvious, because she said, “I promise I’ll be quick.”
Pulling himself together, he looked at the clock on the wall then at an imaginary watch on his wrist. In his best imitation of a track coach he warned, “I’ll be timing you.”
She was worth the wait. Returning from the locker room a few minutes later, dressed in a loose, V-neck T over form-fitting yoga pants, she could make any man salivate. Her hair lay loose around her shoulders like a thick, warm shawl, and he wanted to sink his fingers into it. She carried her winter coat in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. “Can you hold this for me while I put my jacket on?”
Taking the handles of the blue nylon carryall, he didn’t pay any attention to it until she had her coat on and took it back. That was when he noticed the word Colby emblazoned on the side below the white handles.
“No way.” He laughed. “You’re a lady mule.”
****
Abby was enjoying the sight of him. Dressed in his black parka in a room full of people in swim gear, he stood out even more than he would normally. With his dark hair, close cut on the sides but left to flop in loose curls over his forehead, light blue eyes beneath thick eyebrows fixed entirely on her, he was breathtaking. So it took a minute for her brain to recognize what he said. “You know my school mascot? Did you go there?”
“Nope. I’m a Bobcat.”
She couldn’t help but smile. What were the odds of him going to archrival Bates for his education? “Small world.”
“Sure is. What was your major?”
“Classics. You?”
“Economics. You play any sports?”
“Swim team.” It was the only form of exercise she enjoyed, so much better than anything involving running or jumping where her breasts bounced all over the place and got in the way. “I come here seven days a week.” Usually for half an hour, but today she had done double her usual number of laps, trying to work off the restless energy that plagued her since last night’s encounter. Trying to ignore the disappointment she experienced when he wasn’t here at eight o’clock.
By unspoken agreement they started walking toward the exit. “How about you?” she prompted.
“What about me?”
“Did you play a sport?”
“Basketball. I still play two or three nights a week.” He held the first set of doors open for her to pass through. “It’s not the same as playing at Alumni Gym, but a few of the guys in New York are Batesies too.”
Grinning, he added, “We even let in other members of the BBC once in a while,” using the acronym that identified Maine’s three competitive schools: Bates, Bowdoin, and Colby.
“How big of you.”
He held the second set of doors, and they stepped out into a cold, clear day where the sun made crystals of the snow’s crusty top layer.
“Where to now?” he asked.
If she said, “My place,” he might think her too easy. Did she care? As long as she had him, she would be happy, but she wanted him more than once. She wanted him over and over again. If rushing this thing between them meant it would burn out early, then she was willing to take her time.
“I usually get a cinnamon tea from The Common Store.”
“I’ll follow you.”
Downtown was busy, but they found side-by-side parking spots on the common and walked across the street to the general store. On a Saturday after snow, plow truck operators mixed with people making their weekly dump runs, and retirees hung out at round tables by the window to watch passersby. Abby grabbed a copy of the Somerset Reporter from the stack of newspapers beside the door before moving to the coffee counter. The words one size, one price, any flavor combination were written in bold, pink letters above the list of choices on a chalkboard hanging behind the workers’ station.
“I’ve seen your sister Linda in here,” she said to Glen as they waited in line. It was a question, since she owned a diner and could get a cup of coffee any time she wanted to.
“I think she buys a special blend here and serves it at the restaurant.”
A teenage girl introduced herself as Molly and asked what she could get for them. Abby came here every Saturday and the staff knew her preferences, so her greeting was for his benefit.
“You know my answer,” she said, turning to Glen. “What would you like? My treat.”
When he had a regular coffee and she had her cinnamon tea, she dropped a dollar in the tip jar and moved toward a small table in the corner. He stayed her with a hand at her elbow. Placing his lips close to her ear, he spoke in a low, rough voice. “Do you really want to sit here and pretend like we’re not dying to touch each other?”
She drew in a sharp breath and looked over her shoulder at him. Honesty and need were etched on his face. Her body clenched. Started to quiver. Her reply, one word, was strangled by matching desire. “No.”
Minutes later they parked in the lot below their condos and took the elevator up to the third floor. Abby sucked n
ervously at her tea. She wanted this, but she also wanted it to be as good as her imagination told her it could be. And she didn’t want to disappoint him.
The car came to a stop. Doors slid open. They crossed the square hall to her unit without speaking, and she entered the security code. Stepped inside the condo and stopped.
There it was. The wall. Where he was handcuffed but not helpless. Where she was protected by a policewoman only yards away but lost to his sensual assault.
The light in his blue eyes told her he was reliving those same memories.
“Put your tea down,” he said in a gravelly voice. In a tone that brooked no argument and sent an erotic sizzle racing down her spine.
Cautiously she placed the tea on the floor beside the welcome mat.
“Take off your coat.”
He was already unzipping his and toeing off his shoes. After doing the same, she took their jackets and hung them on wall hooks beside the door. Her arms were stretched above her, her back turned to him, and she felt the heat of his body first. Behind her. Surrounding her.
“We have some unfinished business,” he murmured against her ear while circling her wrists with his hands.
Abby closed her eyes. Her head fell back against his chest.
“I was frisked by that woman. Here. That night.”
“Sorry?” She didn’t know what else to say. Maybe touch me before I die from need?
He nipped the lobe of her ear, the little bite flashing through her, bringing her up on her toes.
“Now it’s your turn.”
She made the mistake of tilting her head back to see him. The no-nonsense expression on his face spiked her temperature. His deep command brought it to boiling point. “Up against the wall.”
Kicking the door shut, he guided her to the opposite wall on legs that quivered like gelatin. A nudge of his hips told her to move closer. Only when she was flattened against the surface did he remove his hands from her wrists, slowly running his fingers down the inside of her arms. Abby’s breath caught in her throat. When he briefly squeezed the sides of her ribcage, she mashed her forehead against the hard surface before her.
“Nothing so far,” he said in a low growl against her ear.
Her body convulsed.
His fingers followed the indentation of her waistline, gently scooping the sides before splaying out across her hips. She clenched her buttocks and rolled her cheek against the wall.
“Hmmm.” His voice was a rough whisper. A hard bulge against her lower back reassured her that she wasn’t the only one desperately turned on by this power play. “I think this needs more investigation.”
Yes. Please.
She didn’t say the words aloud, but she might as well have. The way her body was undulating against him was a clear signal that she wanted more.
His left hand slid around her middle to cup between her thighs while he simultaneously thrust from behind.
A keening cry of need escaped her lips.
He did it again. Pressed the heel of his hand against her clit and rocked his hips. Tugged her hair with his right hand until her head fell away from the wall, and then he finally claimed her mouth.
Fireworks exploded through her bloodstream.
She tried to reach for him, to touch any part of him, but her arms were trapped between the weight of his body and the wall. Her fingers curled against the surface, scratching mindlessly. She didn’t even try to contain the moan of need that escaped her.
His kiss deepened, if that was even possible. Tongues dueled. Mimicked the movements of his body behind hers, knees bent so he could thrust and withdraw only to thrust again. She pushed her derriere into the cradle of his hips and oh, God, he rubbed against her in response.
Breathing became difficult, but she wasn’t about to complain. Not for anything in the world would she stop this. She needed him, needed his kiss, like a drug. One that raced through her bloodstream and pushed her to a high that was so close, so close perspiration beaded on her forehead and her legs started to shake.
If only he would…
His right hand suddenly snaked around her front and tweaked her nipple.
She went off like a rocket. Came up onto her toes and wrenched her mouth away from his as she bucked in his hold. Her head slammed into his chest. Her hands clutched at the wall as everything inside her seized up, then fractured. And still he ground his heel against her clit, drawing every last pulse from her orgasm until she collapsed, limp, against the wall. Her cheek rested on the smooth surface. Her eyes slid closed.
Withdrawing his left hand, but only to her belly, he slid his fingers beneath her shirt hem and gently stroked the skin there. Kissed her softly on the lips. Nuzzled her earlobe and sipped at the tender place where her neck and shoulder met.
She wanted to say something. Thank you? But she was simply too exhausted.
Long moments passed. The strength in her legs returned. The bulge pressing into the small of her back remained hard, waiting for her to recuperate. When she made a small move with her hands, lifting her face, he stepped away from her. Only to scoop her into his arms and hold her against his chest. Blue eyes alive with desire, he rumbled, “Your room?”
Speaking was impossible. She simply pointed for him to go around the short wall facing the entry and past the living room fireplace to a door on the other side.
Her bed was in better shape than usual. One side was made for a change, though covered with stacks of paper, notebooks, two or three pens, and a calculator.
He grinned at the sight of it. Gave her a quick kiss on the lips and set her down so she could clear the surface. The moment she placed the last stack in the corner, he was there again, wrapping his arms around her and devouring her with his mouth as he walked her backward to the mattress. Her knees hit the side of the bed, and she fell back onto the comforter. Never breaking the kiss, he followed her down, twisting to the side so his body weight didn’t crush her.
It was her turn to touch. Like a beggar too long denied a feast, she tugged the hem of his shirt up over his lean torso, breaking the kiss so he could pull it over his head. Taking full advantage of his momentary blindness, she kissed his abs, licked his chest, swirled her tongue around the flat disc of one nipple. His body jerked, tensed, and she did it again.
“Oh, baby.”
She liked that sound. Wanted to hear some more of it. So she suckled the nipple and at the same time ran her left hand down his front until she could stroke the length of his erection through his jeans.
He jackknifed against the comforter. She flipped over onto his body to hold him down. Straddling his thighs with her hips, she continued to stroke him and make love to his body with her tongue.
“Like this?” she whispered when her other hand slid through his hair, lightly scraping his scalp. He dug his heels into the mattress and thrust up, almost dislodging her. “I take that as a yes.”
Now it was his turn to pant. She made sure he did too, using her hands and mouth to explore every inch of him. Rubbing her breasts against his torso and squeezing his thighs between her own.
“You have too many clothes on,” he complained, reaching for the bottom of her shirt.
“Let me.”
She enjoyed this. Made sure she had his full attention, then slowly pulled the hem of her shirt up. One inch and her lower abdomen was revealed. Two inches and her navel appeared. He took a deep breath, eyes blazing. Another inch and the bottom of her bra was exposed. Not a sexy garment, rather a full-figure support article; he still seemed to like it if the way he ran his hands over the band and up over the cups was any indication.
“Show me more.”
Just like that the power shifted again. When she lifted her arms to remove the shirt, he stayed her hands so it remained over her eyes.
“Stop.”
The whispered command brooked no argument. And he wasn’t going to get one from her. Not when he gently scraped the underside of her upper arms with his fingernails. Not when he reached
behind her and released the clasp of her bra then pushed the cups up over her breasts, freeing them to the cool air. Her nipples puckered. They hurt, but he knew how to care for them. Cupping one with a warm palm, he tongued the other. Licked it. Oh, God, he licked it. A slow stroke that made her whole body sway, silently begging him to do it again.
“Take off your shirt.”
She threw it to the floor.
“The bra.”
It went into the farthest corner.
He circled each breast with his thumb and forefinger. Lifted them so he could lave her nipples with his tongue while she rocked back and forth on his thighs. Advance. Retreat. Seek. Escape when the sensations were too much for her to stand, only to have him follow her each time. No mercy.
When he finally took one nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth and looked directly at her, blue eyes blazing, she had a mini-orgasm. Her whole body seized then shook uncontrollably. Her eyes slid shut and her head fell back, rolling from side to side as the sweet torment of her breasts continued.
“Like this?” he asked, as if there were any question.
Her voice sounded like she had marbles in her mouth. “You’re a master at this.”
“I’m going to master you.”
Yes! For fifteen years she had been waiting for someone, not just anyone but this man, to take that responsibility.
“Abby?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Open your eyes.”
Pulling herself from the sensual fog that surrounded her, she blinked. Once. Twice. Focused on his handsome features. At the trim beard gently abrading her breast while his tongue flicked over her nipple.
“I’m going to stop now.”
Her eyes flew open wide, denial seizing her body. “No!”
“We have too many clothes on.”
When he spoke, his smile warmed every part of her. She was grinning like a fool, but the man was so exciting! And hot. Definitely hot. Something on full display when he rolled away from her body and came to his feet. His wide shoulders and long, lean torso narrowed down to trim hips cradling an impressive bulge. For her.