“Thanks.” But all of a sudden she didn’t care about selling more dresses. She wanted Connor to look at her again, not to admire the dress but to admire her. Maybe Nate had been right about one thing. A person couldn’t center their life around work success. Sure, work was part of life, but it couldn’t be the focus. Cherry Couture was going to be successful, it was just a matter of time. But she couldn’t keep putting her personal happiness on hold.
The only sound was the soft thud of their feet hitting the hard-packed dirt trail. In minutes the night would be over. She’d be heading home, back to her work-filled days and lonely nights. Her chance to prove to herself that Nate was wrong would be gone.
Instead of letting go of his hand when they reached her porch, Gwen kept hold of Connor’s fingers. “Wait.”
The soft yellow glow of the porch light cut through the night and cast shadows across his face. One of his dark eyebrows lifted.
She squeezed his fingers and tipped her head toward her cabin. Seconds. That was all she had then this would be gone. When was the last time she’d done something impulsive? Simply because she wanted to?
“What?” He squeezed her fingers in response. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”
Virtually every minute of the past year had been planned out. Not a second to spare. Twitter posts, Facebook updates—everything had fed into her dream for Cherry Couture. How long could she go on that way? Did she even want to try to find out?
She lifted her chin to look directly into his eyes. Her words were quiet but confident. “Come inside.”
For a few long seconds he stood motionless, the heat of his body wrapping around her. She let go of his hand and swayed forward, aching for him to touch her. He put his fingertips on her waist and backed her up until her shoulders thumped the cabin door. Her heart beat heavily, pushing thick blood through her veins.
His thigh bumped hers when he stepped closer. “You sure?”
Unable to trust her voice, she nodded.
Just when she though he was going to kiss her, he leaned back. “What about tomorrow? You have to pick, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do you know who—?”
She chuckled. “There isn’t much choice.”
“Tommy’s a good guy,” he said, nodding but not picking up on her laughter.
“He is.” Gwen grabbed one of Connor’s belt loops. “And he’ll be a good match for some other girl.”
The first curve of a smile bent his mouth. “That’s the way it’s going to be?
“That’s the way it is.”
Connor circled one arm behind her back and drew her close, finding her lips effortlessly. He covered her mouth quickly and easily, taking control of the pace with strong sweeps of his tongue. The soft, sure caress was warm and steady, electrifying.
Vibrations ran down her back and she felt more alive than she ever had with Nate. And more sure of herself and what she wanted from a moment than she had in a long time. Her pussy was wet, her nipples tight and the humming energy coursing through her body was purely sexual, but her need wasn’t just a trick of her body. She wanted Connor and she wanted them.
He moved closer, pinning her to the door with his hard body, sliding one thigh between hers and delivering pressure where he could. It wasn’t enough and she was beginning to realize that with Connor, it never would be, but for that night she would take whatever she could and take the memory home.
He curved his hand around her ass then he dropped it lower to flip the fabric of her dress up, higher and higher until he was able to slide his hand under the hem and grab her ass cheek, exposed thanks to her lace thong. His palm worked rough magic on her skin, warming her from the outside all the way in to her pussy, making her even slicker.
Gwen tugged her hand from between their bodies and snaked it around his waist. Copying his motion of lifting fabric away from skin, she yanked on his shirt until it came free from his jeans. The first touch of her hand on his skin brought a satisfying groan from deep in his chest. His response encouraged her and she stepped back far enough to allow space for her to slip her other hand across his stomach, searching until she found the soft trail of hair that led to his cock.
With a sudden jerk of his arm, Connor moved her aside. “Key?”
Gwen’s heel caught on a slat of the porch, making her stumble. When Connor steadied her, she felt the night breeze skim across her bare ass and realized what they’d look like if someone saw them. Instead of being mortified at the possibility, she was even more turned on. She rose up and started kissing Connor again. He responded with a kiss so hard and deep that she had to wrap her arms around his neck to match his pace. Gwen pressed herself so tightly to him that the tension in his body radiated through her, making her own pulse thrum in her veins. Heat spread through her body, a liquid flow of need, making her muscles so impossibly soft she felt as though she could melt right into Connor’s arms.
Gradually he eased up the kiss then glided his wet lips under her chin to whisper in her ear, “The key, Gwen. Give it to me.”
He moved back to give her space enough to unzip the tiny bag dangling from her shoulder. The silver key blinked in the moonlight as she held it out.
Connor opened the door in a rush and swept her inside. He guided her back and she hit the bed with a satisfying thump. Just before he climbed on top of her, she held up her hand.
He stilled as she sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.
“Unbutton your shirt.”
He thumbed the top button loose and worked his way down the row. As he rolled his shoulders back to get the shirt off, she grabbed his belt, her polished nails a blur as she tugged it free. His shirt drifted down and they worked together to get his belt unhooked. Once it was loose, he shoved down his jeans. When they got tangled with his boots, he flipped around to sit on the bed.
Laughing, Gwen hopped up from the bed and knelt in front of him. She took the heel of one boot in her hands and jerked. It didn’t budge.
“Are you going to help with this?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Tug on it again.”
She did as he asked, her breasts bouncing from the effort. He made a point of looking down. “Do it again.”
She smacked his leg then reached for his briefs. “I don’t really care if your pants are off.”
A flicker of shyness clouded her eyes. That was something he didn’t want to see. He liked the change that had come over her once they reached her porch and he wanted more.
Connor lifted his foot from her hands and set the heel to the toe of the other. It came off with a well-practiced slide. The second came free as quickly then he kicked off his pants.
“Your turn.”
He stepped back, letting her know he was going to wait. The slow rise and fall of her chest and the sweet part of her lips told him everything he needed to know.
She didn’t move, so he reached over and flipped off the bedside light then looked at her through the moonlight. “Please,” he added, feeling his cock get harder, his pulse beat faster.
She reached behind herself and wiggled, unzipping her dress enough to get the thin straps down. The top fell, exposing the breasts he’d been fantasizing about nearly every minute of every day for the past week. He dropped to his knees and cupped the soft mounds in his palms. When she arched her back in response to his touch, he flicked his thumbs across her stiff nipples. Pressing up, he raised her flesh, squeezing his fingers to her tease her nipples again. She swayed forward, pushing herself into his hands, telling him she wanted more.
So beautiful, so ready for him.
He angled forward, slowly lowering himself across her. Inch by slow inch he lay across her, taking possession of her.
She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing at his undershirt, pulling it up with quick jerks. He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, tugged until he was able to throw it off. Their bodies came together in a rush of heat, her soft breasts and his chest a contrast of texture.
Even with her dress and his briefs between them, he still found the outline of her pussy lips with the tip of his stiff cock. He rubbed against her, trying to give her clit the friction she needed. She wriggled beneath him, spreading her legs and arching her back, opening her body for him. The smooth silk of her dress made their bodies glide, a combination of slick fabric and glistening skin.
With a groan, she rolled on top of him then braced herself on one arm so that she could slide out of her dress. The silk slipped away, leaving only the tiny thong between them. He reached up and grabbed one side of the panties then tugged them as far down as he could. She picked up where he left off and soon the scrap of lace was between her ankles then dropped onto the floor.
Connor pulled her to him, connecting with her mouth in a rush of need. Eagerly, she matched his kisses, encouraging him to take control of the pace and intensity. He happily obliged but with her on top, deepening the kiss the way he wanted was too difficult.
He rolled her over, taking advantage of the position to shove down his briefs before covering her lips again. Her hands brushed his legs as she tugged at his briefs. Once they were around his calves, he shook his legs to get them all the way off.
Finally, they were both naked.
She moved away. “In the bedside table.”
He twisted across her, finding the handle in the moonlight. It came open with a squeak. Three condoms. He grabbed one, whirled back, then tore it open. His dick was so hard, the condom went on quickly and within seconds, he was back on top of Gwen, his tip pressing between her slick pussy lips.
“Don’t make me wait,” she groaned, lifting her hips off the mattress, grinding her pelvis against his shaft.
He positioned himself between her legs, braced his arms beside her and eased into her tight center. The warmth inside softened to accommodate his thick cock but still he moved slowly, his muscles quivering from the sensation of her absolute perfection. Once he was all the way, buried deep inside her, he let out a hot breath.
It was her turn to quiver and groan. He felt her moan rumble through her just before she wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing him closer. At the same time, she opened her legs wider.
He pulled out then drove in.
She moaned again, this time lifting up to meet his incoming thrust. “Yes, Connor,” she whispered, panting. “Fuck me.”
In the back of his mind, he wondered why, why did she want him so badly, why now when they would be parting the next day, but his brain couldn’t hold the thought, the flawless grip of her body was that consuming.
He rolled back then drove in again. She accommodated his motion, doing everything she could with her body to increase the speed and depth of his thrusts. Her frantic movements were his undoing. The last of his control slipped away and he pumped into her, fucking her hard and fast until she shuddered and moaned. The shake of her body was followed by a series of whimpers that melded into one soft sound, the only thing he heard as his own orgasm tore through him, stealing his breath.
Once his mind came back to him and he had his body under control, he cupped the sides of her face and kissed her gently, then licked her lips. She pressed her mouth to him, a sweet sign that she loved what he’d done as much as he loved doing it.
* * * *
“Seriously?” Sabrina asked, “You just put the hat on the DJ then said goodbye?”
“Yep.” Gwen lifted her phone against her ear to block out the noise from her neighborhood’s street.
“That’s it? End of weekend?” Sabrina continued to talk but Gwen was distracted by the hum of her phone, letting her know more messages were loading. It had been that way ever since she’d gotten back—a steady stream of questions and requests for sample pictures.
Gwen scooted around a pair of kids squirting each other with water pistols then replied, “I told you all this two days ago when I got back. I don’t understand why you’re asking me again.”
Sabrina’s sigh was so loud Gwen could practically feel it in her ear. “That just doesn’t make any sense. You were supposed to meet someone fantastic!”
Gwen was going to tell Sab the whole story but not over the phone. “I’ll tell you every tiny detail this weekend, over drinks. But you’re just going to have to wait.” She tucked her phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug in her bag for her apartment keys.
“Fine, fine,” Sabrina was saying. “Hold on to your secrets. They better be worth the wait, though.”
Gwen smiled as they said their goodbyes then dropped her phone into her bag.
Just as she reached the top step of the landing, the door swung open and the professor stepped out, Diego tucked under his arm. The dog’s torso was wrapped in a stitch-perfect powder blue sweater.
“Hello, Miss Baker,” the professor said, holding the door open for her.
Gwen offered her hello then scratched the dog behind one of his tiny ears. “Cute sweater, Diego. Did you knit that yourself?”
The professor clucked. “Since you brought it up, Ms. Barrington from across the street, she and I—” He pointed behind over Gwen’s shoulder. “I believe that young man is looking for you, Miss Baker.”
Gwen turned. The woman with the pretty French twist stood across the street but she wasn’t looking at them. She was watching a man on a horse trotting down the center of the street, heading straight for Gwen’s stoop.
It couldn’t be, but it was.
Connor guided the horse to the curb, swung off then looped the reins around a parking meter. He strode over and shoved his hat back far enough to kiss her. It was quick, like on that first day, but much more natural.
Hope that he wanted more than that one night curled through her. “Let me guess,” she said with a hesitant smile. “You’re here to invite me to a ranch so I can find my bliss.”
“Nope.” He stepped back and took her hand. “I’m here to invite you to dinner. Friday night.”
“Did you get the job? At the new restaurant?”
“Almost. Ted wants me to cook the trout succotash I made for us. To taste it, you know, and see how I handle myself in his kitchen. I’m pretty sure if he likes it, I’ll get the job.”
Bittersweet excitement spread through her and she worked to focus on the sweet. He’d told her about his hopes for the job and he deserved that chance at success. She was happy, even though he hadn’t come back specifically for her. “That’s great.”
He reached up and touched her eyebrow. “Why the look?”
His simple gesture was her undoing and the question tumbled out, “You don’t want me to find my bliss?”
He scoffed. “Don’t worry about your bliss. I’ve got that covered—and then some.”
He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her so tightly that she could barely move her own arms to take hold of him and return the kiss. The lick of his tongue ignited instant flickers of need deep inside Gwen and, within seconds, she was nearly panting, right there on the sidewalk.
Behind them, Diego started barking, then Ms. Barrington’s dog started yipping and soon Connor’s horse was neighing. Gwen couldn’t hold the laughter in any longer and had to ease back from Connor’s skillful mouth then laugh aloud.
Connor groaned then spoke into her ear. “We’re going to finish this later. You know that, right?”
“Oh, yes,” Gwen replied. “Absolutely.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
What’s her Secret?: Unfinished Business
Isabelle Drake
Excerpt
Chapter One
It’s Thursday night and I’m hanging out at a record store. It’s the kind of place you’d only find in Detroit. Three months ago The Twelve Inch Groove didn’t exist. It was storage area in the back of the bowling alley. I don’t mean just any bowling alley. I mean the Midtown bowling alley that also has an upscale restaurant on one side, a bar filled with regulars up front and a club upstairs where anybody from Whitey Morgan to DJ Assault will be on stage. Tw
o weeks of cleaning and moving crap around, and bammo, it’s a store.
Sure, you have to weave through the bowlers to get here but as long as you keep off the lanes and don’t mess with the barrel-chested guys hurrying to get their next pitcher of Coors before their turn rolls around, traipsing through is no big deal.
“You like this track?”
On my left is what looks to be a walking ad for Goodwill. Baggy pants, huge Red Wings shirt, but short, clean-cut bleached hair. Two-tone Sperrys. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Can’t commit.
On second thought, maybe I have something in common with the guy. Commitment and I aren’t on speaking terms, apparently. I pay attention to the music blaring from the speakers. “I think it’s from Criminal Minded.”
“BDP. Ooooold Skooooool.” He smiles, obviously happy with the way he can stretch out words.
Nice teeth though.
I flip through the Retro Classics, wondering if it’s possible to develop any sort of relationship based on a good set of teeth. Seems doubtful but who knows? Maybe. Anything is possible in Motown. Especially in the spring when everyone is emerging from the winter darkness like—well in this guy’s case—trolls from under a mud-coated, concrete overpass.
He starts talking again, this time about the horrors of new rappers and how they’re all sellouts. Lil Wayne for example. “Take that Lollipop song. Stupidest damn song on the whole fuckin’ radio. He should’ve been long gone after that shit. But he’s not. He’s still here. Gettin’ paid.”
I do not need to degrade myself with this sort of stupidity, talking about rappers as though them getting paid has anything to do with me. Inside my head I hear myself whining. Not about the guy’s behavior—predictable. But about my own—pointless. My subconscious is complaining about the sad state of my affairs and the way I spend too much time hanging out in the sort of places that seem like going there is a good idea but once there, after looking around, it’s obvious being there isn’t so hot after all. Do I leave these places? No. I draw on my inner self, that practical rural Midwestern part of me that I’m always trying to hide, and I make do.
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