by Carrie Elks
She felt weird. As though she was turning up for a booty call. Not that she’d ever done that before. What would Aiden be expecting? For her to march in and head straight for the bedroom? She wasn’t sure she had the confidence to do that.
Who was she trying to kid? She wasn’t sure she had the confidence to even get out of the car. Her hands were still gripped around the wheel, anchoring her to the stationary car.
Lifting her head up, she saw herself reflected in the glass of the windshield. Glaring at her mirror image, she shook her head, silently berating herself. How had she managed to get so worked up over this? It was supposed to be fun, wasn’t it? A little touching, a little loving, and then she could walk away with her head held high. Aiden would never hurt her – not intentionally. He wasn’t Jamie, he wasn’t any randon guy. He was him.
Her rock; or at least that’s what he’d used to be.
She breathed in, her chest expanding, as she reached for the door knob. Here went nothing. Or something. Damn, she needed to get her confidence back. She was a strong woman – a single mother, a student, a soon-to-be veterinary technician. She could tame wild animals with a few words. Surely she could do this.
Dammit, she wanted to do this. Her face heated up at the thought of what lay ahead.
Within thirty seconds she was knocking at his door. It swung open almost immediately – far too quickly for him to be doing anything other than waiting for her. The thought sobered her up. Maybe she wasn’t the only nervous one.
“Hey. I wondered how long you’d be sitting out there.” There was a shy smile on his lips. “I was thinking I’d have to drag you out of the car.”
She tried to ignore the blood rushing to her cheeks. “I was listening to the radio.” She winked at him, putting on an air of bravado. “I wanted to hear the end of the song.”
He tipped his head to the side. “What song were you listening to?”
Oh hell. She wrinkled her nose, thinking for a minute. “Um, the Beach Boys.” Lame, so lame.
He coughed out a laugh. “Good Vibrations?”
She rolled her eyes.
With a grin on his face, he stepped back, motioning for her to come in. As soon as she walked inside the door, he took her hand, pulling her close until her body was touching his. She was struck by the hard warmth of his body, the pine fragrance of his cologne. She’d not bothered to wear high heels today – she’d figured she’d kick her shoes off as soon as she walked in – and their height difference was marked. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her cheek pressed to the top of his chest, closing her eyes for a moment. His arms encircled her, his hands pressed to the small of her back. She could hear his breath – soft and low – as he leaned his cheek against her hair.
She could smell something else, too. The most delicious aroma of food wafting out from the kitchen. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.
“You cooked?” she asked him.
“You sound surprised.” There was a smile in his voice.
“I didn’t expect you to.”
He stepped back, his hands sliding up to her shoulders. Their eyes connected. “What did you think I was going to do? Drag you straight into the bedroom and have my wicked way with you?”
This time she laughed. He was way too close to the truth for comfort. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It smells delicious.”
He grabbed her hand and led her into the kitchen, where two pots were boiling on the stove. “I made pasta, something quick and easy. Slow release carbs to give you stamina.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I’m kidding. Well not about the pasta, because that’s what we’re having. But I didn’t plan on a slow release.” He squeezed her hand. “Try to relax. This is supposed to be a date. Let’s eat and talk and see where things go. No pressure. We don’t do anything you don’t want to, okay?”
She licked her lips. “Am I that obvious?” She hated being so uptight.
“Only to me. I was watching you out of the window. You looked scared to death. And I don’t want you to be scared. I want you to be Brooke. Cool, calm, with an edge that drives me crazy.” He slid his arms around her waist. “The girl I can’t get out of my mind.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft. She could be that girl, couldn’t she? Sure she’d taken some hits to her self-esteem, but she had confidence. As a mother, as a student, even as a teacher. She needed to show it here.
“I’ve set the table on the deck. Go sit out there and watch the sun go down.” He grabbed a wine bottle from the refrigerator, pouring her a glass and passing it to her. “I’ll bring the food out in a minute.”
She took the glass, feeling the condensation against her skin. “Don’t be too long.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“Good, because I’m hungry.” She grinned at him, the action feeling easier now. He knew exactly how to make her feel comfortable. Another thing she remembered from years ago. His words were like Prozac – soothing to the soul.
“The sooner you get out of here, the sooner I can feed you.”
She was still smiling when she walked through the white gauze curtains and onto his deck. The sun was slip-sliding down the horizon, the sky surrounding it layered in orange and purple. Whispy grey clouds were dotted here and there. The air was so still it was almost ethereal.
Growing up in Angel Sands, she’d become accustomed to the daily sunsets, but whenever tourists visited they always remarked upon their beauty. It was as though mother nature was putting on a daily performance, taking her evening bow against a painted backdrop.
She sat for a moment, letting the stillness of the evening wash over her. Taking a sip of the wine, she savoured the cool crispness of the grapes as the liquid danced on her tastebuds. The beach was deserted, the pale yellow sand turning grey as night descended, the dark water slowly ebbing and flowing against the grains. The waves sounded like a mother’s heartbeat as they gently washed to shore. Slow, steady, reassuring.
“You look beautiful, by the way.” Aiden walked across the deck, two plates of pasta in his hand, the wine bottle tucked under his arm. “Especially in moonlight.”
She turned to look at him. He didn’t look bad himself. In fact, he looked as mouthwatering as the food he was carrying. Dark jeans, bare feet, and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Funny how she didn’t feel so hungry any more. Not for food, anyway.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, as he slid the plate in front of her.
“How do you think I’ve survived all these years?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Man can’t live on takeout alone.”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I guess sometimes I still think of you as a college student. But you’re not, are you?”
“Definitely not.” He twisted a forkful of tagliatelle with an expert touch, raising it to his mouth. “I like cooking. It’s restful. Things take as long as they take, and you can’t rush them. It’s very different to the rest of my life.”
The pasta was delicious. The noodles were perfectly cooked – al dente – and the cream sauce was smooth without being heavy. She closed her eyes as she tasted it – letting the hint of garlic and oregano linger for a moment before swallowing it down. “Remember the time you tried to cook the fish you caught?” she asked him.
He smiled, his eyes lighting at the memory. “As I remember you were impressed. You wanted to run away and live in the cave while I went out and hunted your dinner every day.”
“You forgot to gut the damn thing. It tasted rancid.” It was funny, though, remembering how she’d watched him make a fire on the beach, creating a makeshift rotisserie with some old driftwood and sticks. She’d been amazed right up until she put the first morsel into her mouth.
“Hopefully I’ve learned a lot since then.” He twirled his fork into the pasta again. Amazing how a simple act could send shivers down her spine. He was a magnet – she was drawn to everything he did.
“Well
this definitely doesn’t taste like an nineteen-year-old boy cooked it.” She took a sip of her wine. “It’s delicious.”
“The Fresh ‘n’ Easy’s finest.” He winked.
“You got this from the Fresh ‘n’ Easy?” She grimaced. The local supermarket wasn’t known for the quality of its produce. “Wow.”
“I got the ingredients from there. It was either that or drive out of town, and I had a dozen meetings today.” He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want to wait until midnight to eat.
“No, I wouldn’t have wanted that.” She met his gaze again, laying her silverware on the now-empty plate. “Thank you, that really was lovely. I can’t remember the last time somebody cooked for me.” That was, if you didn’t count the formal dinners she had to turn up to at her parents’ house. But she so rarely actually ate that food – her mom had always told her not to. Better to skip the eating and entertain, dear.
“It seems like you’ve missed out on a lot of things. I guess you had to grow up fast.”
“I don’t mind. I like cooking, as long as I have the time.” She swallowed her last mouthful of wine. Her glass was barely empty before he was filling it up again. “Next time I’ll cook for you.”
“Next time?” A smile played at his lips.
“What, is this a one time thing?” She didn’t need to hear his answer. She knew it already, the same way he knew hers.
“That depends on you.”
She looked at him, her eyelashes sweeping down and obscuring him for a moment. “It does?”
“Yeah. I told you, I’m not going to push you. Not for anything. Whatever happens tonight is on your terms.”
“What if I want you to push me?” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “What if I want you to take the lead? To show me what your terms look like?”
He was close, yet too far away. The table between them felt like a barrier, and she wanted it gone. He must have wanted the same thing, because the next moment he was up and closing the distance, offering his hand to her. She slid her palm inside his, letting him pull her up to standing. His touch was enough to set her on fire – her skin fizzed with anticipation. He pulled her close, his finger tipping her chin up until her eyes locked with his. They were dark, narrowed, taking her in.
“I’ll take the lead if you want me to.” His voice was thick. “But if you want me to slow down, or stop, or…”
She put her finger on his lips, feeling the softness of his skin there. Such a contrast to his face, where his beard was already pushing through. “Hush. I don’t want you to stop, and I won’t want you to slow down. I only want you.”
Her words were like paraffin poured over an already-burning fire. They set his body alight. How long had he thought about this moment? About having this woman offer herself up to him, the same way she’d laid herself bare a decade ago? For so long she’d been a memory – a thought in the breeze he’d successfully ignored. But now she was here, in his home, and it felt as though every dream he’d ever had was coming to life.
“You’ve got me.” He brushed his lips across her temple. Her skin was warm and soft. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and inviting, and the innocence he saw sent a shot of pleasure down to his groin. He’d been hard since they’d started eating – it was impossible not to be when she kept sliding the pasta into her mouth, her lips parting the same way they parted whenever he kissed her. Even with the table between them he could feel the heat of her, see the need in her. To know he was the guy she wanted to sate that need made him feel ten feet tall.
He kissed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her lips. Her throat undulated as she swallowed at his closeness. With his hand still beneath her chin, he angled her face, the tip of her nose sliding along his until they fit right together. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly open. She was waiting for him. And though they’d kissed before, this felt different. He could taste the anticipation wafting from her.
Because this wasn’t only a kiss, it was a beginning. The appetizer for what he had planned. As his lips hovered above hers, he could feel her arching her body into him, all softness and curves and warm flesh. The kind of body a man could lose himself in, again and again. The kind he’d never get enough of no matter how hard he tried.
He ran the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her gasp as she opened up to him. He kissed her, his mouth demanding, his hands sliding down her back to press them closer together. He was hard against her belly – pulsing at her closeness. She lifted her hands, threading them in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as she tried to get them closer still.
She was as responsive as hell, her lips moving and loving as their tongues slid together. Guttural noises came from deep in her chest as he cupped the back of her neck, his fingers sliding through her smooth, blonde hair. She might have asked him to lead, but right now she owned him. Owned his body, his responses, the aching need that pressed into her. And she was the one who led him to his bedroom, her fingers threaded through his as she kept looking back at him. He could see the desire in her eyes, making them sparkle. Her lips were swollen from their kisses. Her breath gave away her desire, pushing her breasts up with short little gasps, as though she couldn’t get enough air into her body.
He followed her into his room, his eyes scanning her body. Her dress clung to her, accentuating the dip of her back, and the rise of her behind. Her hips curved in perfect symmetry, into a waist so small he could span it with his hands. How was it possible a woman like this had never experienced good sex?
“Take your dress off.” His voice was low. He’d barely finished speaking before she was sliding the pink fabric up her thighs, slowly revealing more of her tanned skin, a contrast to the white g-string she was wearing. He dragged his lip between his teeth as she lifted it up further, revealing her stomach, her breasts, and finally her face. Her hair dropped down around her shoulders – light gold on bare skin – and he bit harder to hide his moan.
Damn, this woman was beautiful. And it wasn’t simply the way she looked, but who she was. The way she was looking at him, like he was king of the goddamned castle. It made him want to be everything she needed. Everything she wanted.
“Let me see you for a minute.” He nodded at her. She stood still, like a statue. But she didn’t look embarrassed or afraid. Maybe it was the way he was staring at her, the heat in his eyes. The need made every cell in his body pulse.
“You like?” she asked him.
“Yes I do. Very much.”
“So touch me.” It wasn’t a beg. Not even a command. The sentence made complete and utter sense. You couldn’t look at perfection without wanting to touch it.
He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. His hand slid down her side until he was cupping her waist. His fingers pressed into the soft skin, feeling the flare of her hips beneath them. Still holding her, he dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to her stomach.
“Oh!”
He looked up to see her head tipped back before he kissed her again, with an open mouth. He licked her skin, tasting her. Imagining what she would taste like when he moved to her core.
“Take your bra off.”
He felt her move her arms to unhook the clasp. The scrap of white fabric fell to the floor. He lifted his head, taking in the way her breasts lifted up from her chest, tipped with perfect pink nipples.
With his hands still spanning her waist, he pushed her back to the bed. Her knees buckled as she sat, her breasts at the perfect height as he kneeled in front of her. He moved his hands up, feathering her ribcage, feeling the soft swell of her skin as he reached her breasts. He moved his thumbs, feeling the peak of her. Hearing her moan as he stroked again and again. He leaned in, inhaling the scent of her, and pressed his lips to her sensitive skin. Her nipple was hard as he pulled it between his lips, sucking and licking until she let out a deep moan. He moved to her other breast, worshipping it in the same way, loving the taste of her, and the way she responded to his touch.
Her legs opened as he leaned in closer still, her bare thighs grazing against his torso. He unbuttoned his shirt, needing to feel his skin on hers, needing to feel their chests pressed together. As he shucked it off, he leaned forward, pushing her until her back hit the mattress. His chest molded against hers, his lips kissing her lips, and her thighs hooked around his hips as she began rocking against him.
Her hands moved down, in between them, desperately seeking his belt. She tugged at it, missing a couple of times before she finally unclasped it, and pushed the thick metal button of his jeans through the fabric and unzipped him.
He was straining against his boxers, hot and hard as she slid her hand inside his waistband. Her hand circled him, her fingers stroking his overheated erection, her thumb brushing against his swollen tip.
“Let me touch you.” His voice was rough, his breath as ragged as hers. “I want to make this good for you.” He moved back, her fingers falling from him, before he tugged at her panties until she was bare. It was impossible to move his eyes from her – she was as perfect there as everywhere else. Pale skin covered with scant blonde hair, glistening in the half light.
As soon as his fingers grazed her, she arched her back from the mattress. She was wet and swollen, her nerve endings sending her body into overload whenever he touched her. He could tell she was already on edge – even though he’d barely moved his fingers – and the thought made him throb with need. He rolled his thumb in a circle, and her hips gyrated in the same rhythm, her breath getting shorter and shorter until there was no breath at all. A moment before she reached her peak, he slid his fingers inside, never letting up on the circles with his thumb. He felt her tense, her muscles rigid around him, her body freezing the same way the air stills before a storm. A moment later she convulsed around him, a long drawn out moan escaping from her lips. He pulled his fingers out, his slick hand tugging at his jeans and boxers, pulling them all the way off. She opened her eyes, reaching for him, and he climbed above her, grabbing a condom from the nightstand next to the bed.