Almost Paradise

by Chris Keniston

  “Shall I warm that up for you?” He remained standing across the room.

  Angela shook her head but didn’t glance up.

  “I’ll be done and on my way in a minute.”

  “No hurry.” He found himself moving toward the sofa. “Would you prefer something stronger?” The way her head shot up, he guessed he’d struck a nerve. Or perhaps she thought he’d bought her isn’t-this-great-news act. Setting the cup on the table, she shook her head. “Was I that obvious?”

  “No.” Despite his better judgment, he did as he wanted and sat beside her. “You gave an admirable performance.”

  She nodded. “I don’t want them to feel bad when they have everything to be happy about.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” Her chest rose and fell on a heavy breath, and then she sagged back against the couch. “I just hope I get pregnant soon. I really, really don’t want to spend the next seven months jealous of Kara’s pregnancy.”

  Her hair fanned across the sofa cushion, and good sense took a backseat once again as his fingers stretched out and raked through the silken tresses.

  Angela’s eyes drifted closed. “That feels nice.”

  Brushing his fingers through her hair made him feel a lot of things but nice was not at the top of the list. “Any idea when it will be time to…um…”

  “Start trying?” She turned her face into his hand.

  He nodded.

  “I’ve been given a clean bill of health. I even bought a thermometer today to start charting my temperature.” That brought a smile to her face.

  He liked it when she smiled. “What about the drugstore kits?”

  “You’ve been reading again?”

  A grin teased at his lips. “Guilty.”

  Still smiling, she nodded. “Got one of those too, but having some idea of how my cycle works should help me determine when to start testing.”

  This time he nodded, running the back of his hand down her cheek. Her gaze met his and held. When his fingers reached her chin, he thought he saw a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. He dared to continue a path down her throat, making her breath hitch and his heart kick into double time.

  This wouldn’t be their first kiss, and yet he was as nervous as a teenager on the front porch after his first date. Leaning closer, he waited for any sign she didn’t want him to kiss her, wasn’t ready for his touch. But all he saw in her eyes was a reflection of the hunger simmering in his veins. Closer, he brought his other hand to frame her face and let his lips touch hers.

  Gentle, he reminded himself. This was just a kiss. A mingling of lips to build a level of comfort. This was not, he repeated, meant to be a segue to the performance his body so desperately wanted. A kiss, light and tender, and then back away. If he could get his dick to stand down, they could spend some time snuggling. Perhaps discuss what had been on his mind since reading up more on improving the odds of conception.

  Only, he hadn’t anticipated her tongue gliding along the seam of his lips, begging for admittance.

  And there was no human way he could refuse. He opened his mouth to her invitation. Tongues tangled, and the fire he’d so desperately tried to bank burst into a roaring flame.

  Still until now, her arms drew him closer. One hand rested on his shoulder, and fingers began doodling circles on his neck, slowly inching upward until tracing the outline of his ear and shooting sparks of need and want directly south of his belt buckle. She was killing him.

  With a groan he couldn’t smother, he tore his mouth away from hers, his hand wrapped around her wrist in an effort to cease the sensations pulsing through every nerve ending. “While I would very much like to continue this little encounter, there’s only so much a man can take, and I’m already there.”

  Her free hand slid from his chest to his belt. One finger dipped behind the waistband of his shorts to skim the sensitive skin and he almost shot up off the seat. Any other time, place, or woman, and he’d be ripping away clothes and having all of her. But this wasn’t any other woman or any other time.

  “Angel,” He grabbed the hand still skirting millimeters away from the one part of his body that desperately wanted to be surrounded by her touch.

  “Did I mention—” She leaned into him, her breath fanning his lips. “As of this afternoon, I’m free to…practice?”

  Practice? Air he needed to breathe seized in his lungs. If she wanted to practice, who was he to say no? But not here on the sofa like a pair of randy teens.

  For a split second, Angela thought Billy might pull away—again. What she hadn’t expected was for his arms to slide under her and scoop her against his chest. A rock-solid chest. Like a princess in a fairy tale, she’d been swept off her feet and whisked away to the prince’s castle. Or at least the prince’s inner sanctum.

  One knee on the king-size bed, Billy gingerly laid her onto the mattress, his eyes never leaving hers. The bed lowered from the rest of his weight climbing up beside her. The hunger radiating from his gaze wreaked as much havoc with her senses as had the masterful motions of his mouth dancing with hers. Anticipation had her pulling him close, her lips anxious to taste and tangle once again.

  His fingers brushed her cheek, continued slowly down her throat and too slowly across her chest. His eyes still watching, reading, and then it hit her. He was waiting for her to say yes. To reassure him this was where she wanted to go. Tugging him down hard, she pressed her lips to his and rolled them over until she was sprawled across his body. Chest to chest, hip to hip, galloping heart to heart. Absolutely yes.

  Billy was ready to self-combust. Holding back, waiting, making sure, had used degrees of self-control and restraint that had long ago been put to bed. Now he wanted, no, needed, to feel and taste every inch of her. Rolling back around, he perched on one elbow. His mouth trailed kisses down her neck, past her collar bone and, shoving her top aside, he nipped at the delicate, soft flesh. His other hand slid under her shirt and palmed the neglected breast.

  His thumb flicked at the lace-covered nipple, and Angela mewled like a kitten, her hips bucking against his already-strained erection. Reaching underneath her, he used the one-handed maneuver he’d mastered in high school to unsnap her bra. “This has got to go,” he whispered into her ear, pausing to suck in the tender lobe and swelling with need at her throaty purrs of pleasure.

  Before he could shift to remove the bra, Angela had both hands at the hem of her shirt. She whipped it over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her bra sailed across the room and her hips bowed as she wriggled out of her slacks.

  Flipping him onto his back, she pressed her palms into his shoulder. “You, kind sir, are overdressed.”

  Straddling him, she licked at the strained muscular cords of his neck. One hand undid the buttons of his shirt then reached down to stroke him as her other hand fumbled with his belt. Billy swore he would come on the spot if he didn’t distract her. And fast. Grabbing her wayward hand in his, he brought her hand forward and fingers entwined kneaded her soft breast, his thumb flicking the pebbled peak.

  Angela’s delicate gasps took on a throatier sound that had him grow impossibly harder. Brushing up her thigh with his other hand, he drew it across her panties, up her tummy, then back down to slip his roaming fingers under the silk and swirl the curls. Separating her folds to find her slick and wet with wanting, he pushed one finger inside, palming her most sensitive spot. The dual assault of their hands on her breast and his fingers gliding in and out of her warmth had her head tossed back and her breath hitching in not-so-quiet gasps.

  Her body tightened, squeezing his fingers. Her legs quaked, and using his upper-body strength, he folded upward, his mouth covering her other nipple, sucking, tugging, and bringing her forward until she bucked and screamed his name.

  Yes! His name on her lips was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, and the rosy look of ecstasy on her face made him want to preen with pride. All her weight on him, strands of hair teasing his nose, he brought both h
is arms around and enfolded her in a soothing embrace. One hand drawing careful strokes down her back, he memorized every curve, never wanting to forget the feel of her in his arms.

  “That. Was. Amazing,” she mumbled into his shoulder. His still shirt-covered shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever move again.”

  A small chuckle escaped his throat. “I don’t think that’s part of the plan.”

  Planting her hands on either side of him and lifting herself up, she shifted down and rested her chin on his chest. “I detect we have a small problem here.”

  “We do?” He smiled.

  One hand quickly finished unbuckling his belt, then righting herself, she pulled at his shirt and shoved it off his shoulder. “Sit up,” she commanded.

  Bare breast to bare chest, he shucked the shirt and tossed it aside. “Now what?”

  Her hand traveled down his side to his unzipped pants. Sliding off his lap, dragging her leg across his still-confined erection, she pushed him flat onto the bed and yanked at the waistline. He’d spent many a night pounding his pillow and dreaming of this moment, but not once had he pictured his sweet little Realtor to be such a temptress. The need to flip her over and bury himself deep inside was all consuming.

  He couldn’t move fast enough when she tapped his side for him to lift his hips and tugged the pants and boxers off together, freeing him.

  Adding his pants to the pile of clothes tossed to one side, Angela leaned forward, her hungry gaze boring into him with a delighted look of predator about to toy with its prey. Slow and deliberate, her tongue slid out of her mouth and roamed across her lips in rhythm with the torturous shifting back and forth of her damp panties against his hard-on.

  “That.” Billy grabbed her waist with both hands and flipped her onto her back, slid his fingers down her side, gliding under the swell of her breasts, down her tummy, and hooking his thumbs in the elastic, he tugged her panties down. Lifting one leg out, he kissed the underside of her knee, then turned and, lifting her other leg, discarded the panties. “Was too much clothing.”

  Crouching down, he kissed around her nipple, his thumbs kneading her hips, his tongue teasing the tender flesh. His plan to work his way south and have her screaming his name once again came to an abrupt end when she nudged him back and shook her head.

  “No, sir.” Easing him onto his back, she brought her mouth down on his at the same moment delicate fingers wrapped around him. Her tongue, flicking and teasing his as nimbly as her fingers, roamed his length and skimmed his balls until he once again thought he might explode.

  “I need you.” Ready to feel her warmth wrapped around him, he slid one finger inside her. She was wet and warm and as ready as he was. “Now.”

  His finger wiggled inside her and she threw her head back. “Yes. Now.”

  Her weight lifted, and she eased over him, descending at an excruciatingly slow pace. Swallowing him inch by inch. Her muscles clenching and squeezing and pulling him deeper inside her, and then she slammed against him, sheathing him until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. Up and down she pounced, back and forth. The slick tension grew, brighter, stronger. The sweet friction, stroke for stroke, sent need spiraling inside him.

  “Yes,” she cried, picking up the pace. Sweat-covered bodies pounded feverishly. “Yes. Yes.”

  The sound of her pleasured cries drove him to the point of near insanity. Her body quaked around him. One more squeeze. One last thrust and he burst inside her, spent and satisfied and in way over his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There was no way she was ever moving again. Draped across Billy’s chest, Angela couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. One arm around her, Billy stroked her hair with his free hand. As far as she was concerned, this was the closest thing to heaven.

  Forcing herself to raise up on her elbow so she could see his face, she studied his expression but didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. “I should probably get dressed.”

  Inching up against the headboard, Billy sat straighter.

  Suddenly nervous, Angela grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it up to her neck.

  “Don’t.” Billy touched her hand, lowering her arm. “I don’t want you bashful around me.”

  And wasn’t that silly? After riding him like a cowgirl at a rodeo, what business did she have covering up now?

  Wrapping his arm around her once again, he urged her to tuck into his side. “I’ve had something on my mind, and now seems like the appropriate time to bring it up.”

  She tried not to stiffen at his words, but the first place her mind went was that he’d decided not to help her. Immediately her thoughts came back with that made no sense. She’d thought that the night walking on the beach, and she’d been wrong. It certainly made no sense now after having just had the best sex of her life. Unless…this was all about just the sex. She had after all been the one to make a move on him. Her thoughts and fears were still battling about when Billy’s finger hooked under her chin and turned her to face him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing important.”

  “You were frowning and staring at the sheet as though you expected the fabric to catch on fire. What happened?”

  “You go first. What did you want to talk about, and then I’ll let you know what I was thinking.”

  He chuckled. “Is this like you show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

  Feeling the rush of heat in her cheeks, she bobbed her head. “Maybe.”

  “Okay. I’ve done some reading, and although there are different viewpoints on the most effective way to conceive, all seem to presume the sperm and egg have…close proximity.”

  Close proximity? How cute was that? Their proximity couldn’t possibly get any closer. She would definitely have to get a handle on her insecurities. “Yes.”

  “Except for artificial insemination, where the doctor only gives you one attempt a cycle, two people trying to conceive should have more frequent relations.”

  Her cheeks heated once again. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t keep blushing every time they had to discuss sex. Nodding, she resisted the urge to pull the sheet up higher.

  “I’ve been thinking it might make sense, at least during the times when you should be close to ovulating, if we…stayed together.”

  Modesty forgotten, she drew back, sat up straight. “What do you mean ‘stay together’?”

  “I mean we’re supposed to do this at least once a day for three to five days before you ovulate, and

  knowing exactly when you ovulate is an iffy thing. Though easier to predict with a kit. Don’t you agree it makes more sense to stay in one place when we’re trying?”

  “One place?” she repeated.

  “Your place or mine. Whichever.”

  Fidgeting with the edge of the sheet, she tucked it under her arms. “Your place or mine.”

  “I said that already.” He wasn’t smiling. As a matter of fact, despite the placid expression, the way the muscle at the base of his jaw ticked, she’d be willing to guess he was as nervous about this as she was.

  “I…I hadn’t thought about that possibility.” “It makes sense. If we have sex at night before bed, one of us would have to go home every night in the middle of the night. Which would probably be easier than getting up in the middle of the night to have sex in the morning. I suppose if you prefer, we could go somewhere neutral. There are certainly more than enough resorts on the island. And for only a few days a month, it shouldn’t be hard to keep the temporary sleeping arrangements from our friends.”

  “Right.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead at all. She’d begun taking her temperature to get an idea of how her cycle worked. The how to information all stressed knowing how her body worked. Planning for the big picture wasn’t her strong-suit. “I think it would make more sense for me to be here. Everywhere else will probably have a tub in the bathroom.”

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine for me.”
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  “But your bathroom has that great walk in shower and you have a rou…tine.” Her glance fell on his legs beneath the sheet. Or his leg and prosthesis. “I thought you took the prosthesis off for sex.”

  “I take the prosthesis off to go to bed at night. For most below-the-knee amputees, whether or not they wear their prosthesis for sex just depends on the situation. You might say a rule of thumb is if it’s on when you initiate sex, it stays on. And if it’s off, it stays off.”

  “I see.” And she did. They’d rolled and tumbled, and she’d not realized once that he had his prosthesis on. Vaguely she remembered moving her legs around his and bumping something hard, but at the time the only thing registering was how good being with Billy felt. Really good. “I say I come here.”

  He nodded. “Here it is. Your turn now.” “What?”

  “I show you mine. You show me yours.” His lips curved up in an adorable smile.

  “Oh.” She had agreed to that, hadn’t she? She felt about two inches tall at what she was about to confess. “It momentarily occurred to me that you might have changed your mind.”

  One brow lifted in question before both brows dipped into a frown. “I see.”

  Did he? Did he understand that for a few seconds she’d considered he was using her just for sex. God, she hoped not, but the still-furrowed crease between his brows told her he had figured exactly that out. And knowing he realized she’d thought the worst of him, however briefly, bothered her. A lot. Her own fears and insecurity built through years of failed relationships had caused her to doubt him. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Ever.

  * * *

  “Would you like a hot cup of tea?” Nick leaned against the doorjamb while his wife slid out of her dress.

  “No, thank you. It’s bad enough I have to get up at least once in the middle of the night to go pee. Tea will only lose me more sleep.” Pulling her nightgown over her head, Kara started at the feel of Nick’s hands on her tummy.