Sultry Escapes: Waking Up to You

He lifted his hands and twined them in her hair, fingering the strands as he pulled her face down toward his. A quick inhalation, two thudding hearts finding a common rhythm, a last glance of certainty and their mouths finally came together.

It was soft, slow and easy at first, a gentle exploration of lips. Giving, taking, molding, sliding, not a hint of demand in it, just a tender, sexy build.

This wasn’t like the kiss they’d shared this morning. It was far more lazy, as if knowing that since one kiss was all they’d agreed on, they both intended to make it not merely the journey but also the destination. It might only be one, but as far as Candace was concerned, this kiss could go on for half an hour and they’d still technically be following the rules.

His warm tongue began to test the corners of her mouth, and she opened for him, sliding hers out in welcome. The kiss deepened, their tongues thrusting together in a deliberate, sultry tango. He tasted warm and spicy, with wine adding even more flavor to his already-delicious mouth. She lifted her arms around his neck, and he dropped his hands to her hips. Digging his fingers into her bottom, he pulled her even more tightly against his erection.

She groaned in the back of her throat, resisting the urge to toss her head back and grind herself into a climax. The kiss deepened as the frenzy increased, and she noticed he was thrusting up slightly, as if making love to her.

Damn their clothes. Damn his conditions.

They might only have one kiss, but he hadn’t said anything about what they could and could not touch during that kiss. So without pulling away she reached for his waist, tugging his shirt up so she could touch and stroke that flat, muscled stomach. He sighed against her lips, but didn’t resist, merely followed her lead. When his hands tugged her blouse free from her jeans and he encircled her waist with his big hands, she wanted to jump for joy.

She settled for continuing to kiss him, turning her head, going deep then shallow, hard then soft.

His strong hands caressed her, moving up to stroke her midriff, then higher, until his thumbs were resting at the edge of her bra. Whimpering and arching toward his touch, she shuddered with relief when he finally scraped those thumbs over her taut nipples, teasing them through the lace. Sparks erupted as he tweaked and toyed with her.

Her cries of satisfaction seemed to urge him on. Without her asking, he pulled the material down, out of the way, so he could pleasure her more, until she was writhing on his lap, almost desperate with need.

But still the kiss didn’t end. It was as if they were both determined to remain true to their terms and see just how far they could go without ever letting their mouths separate.

Pretty damn far, she soon realized as he slid his hands back down her body and unfastened the button of her jeans.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered into his mouth.

She suspected he hadn’t been waiting for permission.

As he slowly lowered her zipper, she lifted herself up a little, giving him access. He pushed her jeans down just enough to allow him to slip his hand into the steamy crevice between her thighs. When those knuckles brushed against her most sensitive spot, she let out a cry, needing so much more.

He seemed to realize she was right on the edge. Thrusting one hand into her hair to cup her head, he deepened the kiss, making love to her mouth with hungry determination. His other hand remained still, but just as she was ready to pound on his shoulders to demand more, he reached under the elastic edge of her panties. Tangling his fingers in the soft thatch of hair, he moved deeper, until the rough pad of one found her clit and began to work it.

Heaven.

Not being able to pull back and look down was painful. But she didn’t want to end the kiss, didn’t want to break the spell, for fear everything would stop. All her senses were on overload as she smelled his musky scent, tasted every inch of his mouth, felt his body pressed against hers, saw his handsome face and heard the small groans of pleasure he didn’t try to disguise.

Just as she was on the verge of coming, he moved his hand away. This time, she did pound on his shoulder, but he responded with an evil chuckle that she tasted as well as heard. When she realized he was moving deeper into her panties, so that he could slide a long, warm finger into her, she forgave him his every sin.

God, it had been so long since she’d taken anyone into her body. Her muscles clenched him, squeezing, drawing him deeper. He thrust in, drew out, mimicking what he would do when he really made love to her, until she was squirming on his lap.

As if knowing she was desperate for more, he gave her another finger, plunging both deep, stroking her way up inside until she began to shake. And when his thumb moved back up to cover her clit, a warm pulse of pleasure burst out and rushed through her. Every cell in her body felt on fire, from the bottoms of her feet to the tips of her hair, and she could no longer control herself. She threw her head back, gave a long, utterly satisfied cry, and rode out the orgasm that left her quaking and weak.

When she finally came back down to earth, she felt completely spent and collapsed onto him, her head on his shoulders, her arms around his neck. Oliver was kissing her temple, stroking her stomach and then her lower back.

But their mouths had fallen apart. The kiss had ended.

She held her breath, wondering if he was going to say to hell with their deal and make love to her the way his rigid, throbbing cock said he was dying to.

When he gently lifted her off his lap and sat her back down beside him on the couch, she had her answer.

“Seriously?”

She didn’t have to say another word. He knew what she was asking; she could tell by the look on his face.

He rose to his feet and tucked his shirt back in.

“Thank you, Candace. Good night.”

She gritted her teeth and zipped her jeans, reminding herself that this was entirely her fault. She’d promised one kiss and no more. No, she hadn’t exactly invited him to stick his hand down her pants and finger her into oblivion, but it had seemed within reason as long as they were sharing that one kiss.

He was just playing by the rules. Damn the man.

She rose, tucking her blouse back in, and lifting her head, as if she was totally fine about how this whole thing had played out. “Good night, Oliver.”

She turned her back to him and began to pick up the bottles and glasses, tidying up the room. He stood there for a moment, watching her, as if waiting for her to throw a fit, call him a jerk or beg him to stay. But she didn’t. If he wanted to play this straight, that’s what she would do. If he wanted to change the rules of the game, he needed to be the one to say so.

In the end, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded, headed to the door and walked out into the night.

6

OLIVER SPENT THE next day wishing he hadn’t consumed so much wine the night before, and steering clear of Candace.

He took care of the wine with some aspirin.

Her decision to visit her grandfather for almost the entire day took care of Candace.

That was good. He wasn’t ready to run into her again. Not when every time he closed his eyes, he saw her beautiful face, suffused with pleasure, so wanton and gorgeous, he knew she would haunt his dreams forever.

Sometimes, doing the right thing just sucked.

He had thought it was the right thing at the time. Unfortunately, right now, he couldn’t remember the reason why.

He’d tried to work out the frustration, spending the day laboring in the storehouse, which still held a number of antique vats. Buddy was hoping to restore and use them. Having tasted the amazing wines aged in antique wood last night, he had to agree that they were worth salvaging. And fortunately, the work was hard enough that he was able to put Candace, and the amazing moments they’d shared on that couch, out of his thoughts. At least, for the most part.

Finally, though, when he glanced at his watch and saw it was after six, he knew he had to call it quits. She would probably be heading back to the estate soon. He intended to go down to the rehab center to visit Buddy. Hopefully, their cars would pass in the night and they wouldn’t run into each other, there or here. He just couldn’t take another evening of sexual tension with the woman. Not when he knew how sweet she tasted, and how those feminine cries of pleasure sounded when she came apart in his arms. Not when he was dying to slam his cock into her and forget the rest of the world even existed.

As he toweled his hair dry and eyed his jaw in the mirror, he realized he ought to shave. Not because he intended to rub his face on someone sinfully soft and wanted to prepare, but because he was beginning to look a little scruffy. Buddy had made a point of mentioning it yesterday.

“It’s not about that soft skin,” he told his reflection. “Not about that stomach. Not about those breasts.” God, had he been dying to end the kiss if only so he could look down at the perfect breasts he’d held in his hands. He swallowed, seeing the condensation he left on the mirror as he breathed ever harder. “It’s not about wanting to bury your face between her thighs and see if she tastes as good as she feels.”

Somehow, though, as he finished shaving and stared at his smooth-cheeked reflection, he knew he was fooling himself.

No, he didn’t deserve her. No, he had no business taking up with her. But oh, hell, yes, did he ever want her.

Yesterday, when she’d walked up those stairs, giving him a glimpse of heaven between two limbs, it had taken every ounce of his strength not to follow her. He’d pictured it, a flash of erotic images storming through his brain. He’d seen himself pounding up after her, three steps at a time. Stopping her before she got to the top. Guiding her down onto her knees. Gently pushing her forward until she was on all fours and he could take his place a few steps below. He’d instinctively known how perfect it would be to position her sweet, wet sex above him, to bury his face in it, lick into her until she bucked and cried, then to drive into her before she’d even stopped screaming over the multiple orgasms he’d give her.

Oliver closed his eyes, willing the images to leave his head. But they wouldn’t. They were imprinted there, the vision so real it was almost memory.

Then came the images from last night. He could still taste her lips, still feel the softness of her skin, still remember how it had felt to slide a finger into that slick, tight channel and play with that pearly little clit until she whimpered.

He groaned, reached down and found his cock hard and erect.

“Damn it, Candace,” he muttered, grabbing himself, squeezing, pumping. His hand was in no way as good—wet, hot—as she would be, but it was all he had. All he would allow himself.

It didn’t take long. No longer than it had taken the previous night when he’d gone to bed and let himself replay the moments he’d spent with her on the couch. He came in a hot gush, spewing his essence over his hand, knowing he’d give a year off his life if he could do it in her instead.

“But you can’t,” he told himself, feeling even more sexually frustrated than he had before his second jacking-off session of the past twenty-four hours.

His hand just didn’t cut it. He wanted her hand. Her body. Her mouth. More than he’d ever wanted anything.

He tried to forget his sexual needs as he drove down to the rehab center. He definitely tried to disguise his desire as he visited with Buddy and gauged how the elderly man was doing with his new hip. Fortunately, he’d been right about guessing Candace wouldn’t be there. She’d apparently stayed until dinnertime, leaving shortly before he’d arrived, so he wouldn’t have to pretend he hadn’t spent the past twenty hours fucking her senseless in his mind. Hopefully he would get home late, find her rental car in the driveway, see all the lights were out and go to bed, having managed one more day of resisting her.

To make sure of that, he intended to go out for a bite to eat and maybe have a few beers at a local watering hole before heading back. He’d even picked the place.

After they’d spent a half hour talking about the amazing find in the wine cellar, Buddy said something that made him wonder if fate was conspiring to bring him and Candace together.

“You ought to see if you can catch up with Candace at Wilhelm’s. I told her they have the best burgers in town and she said she was going to stop there for dinner.”

So she could avoid arriving home in time to see him? That was funny, considering she was dining at the very bar at which he’d intended to stop. Now, though, he figured drive-through fast food would do him just fine.

“I should probably get home and make an early night of it. I’m going to get back to work on the old vats tomorrow, see what else we can salvage.”

Buddy frowned. “I’d feel better if you swung by and checked on her. Tonight’s Monday. Adult softball league night.”

“So?”

“So we both know the teams all converge on Wilhelm’s for brewskis and wings after their games. It can get a little raucous. I’d hate to think of my girl having to fend off some guy who downs a little too much liquid courage.”

Oliver tensed at the very thought of it. No, he didn’t have any claim on her, and had told her he didn’t want any. But damned if he wanted another man making a move, welcomed by her or otherwise. That was probably pretty selfish, but, frankly, he didn’t give a shit.

Since he met her, Candace had been putting off some strong signals. Her body was dying for some action, she needed sex and she needed it badly. And last night, when they’d kissed and he’d stroked her into an orgasm, she had been like a cat in heat, so obviously ripe and ready that he had smelled her arousal—hence his drooling hunger to bury his face in her sex and eat her like a kid ate an icecream cone.

He’d be damned if any guy with less-pure motives and less self-control was going to take her up on what she was silently offering.

“Will you at least go by and check on her, make sure she’s okay?” Buddy prompted. He wore a slight frown, but Oliver saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, as well. The old man was matchmaking again. Under normal circumstances, that would have sent Oliver running in the other direction, away from the local pub where Candace might now be putting off those vibes he’d been picking up on since the night they’d met.

But because of those vibes, he just couldn’t.

“Okay, Buddy. I’ll go by and make sure she’s all right.”

And make sure she wasn’t entering into negotiations with any other guy for one tiny innocent little kiss. After giving her that orgasm, he’d left her high and dry last night. Over his dead body would any other man get her low and wet.

HER GRANDFATHER HAD been right. Wilhelm’s had great burgers. After Candace swallowed the last bite of hers, she wiped her mouth, reached for her tea and thought about dessert.

Not that she was still hungry. Honestly, the burger had been huge. She never ate like that, and could almost hear her arteries screaming in protest. But she was not ready to call for her check, get up, leave and drive back to Grandpa’s place. Not while it was only eight o’clock. Not when there was a good chance Oliver would be up, the lights on in his small cottage, tempting her to find some excuse to wander over to see him.

He’d avoided her all day today. As if his rejection last night and the finality of his goodbye hadn’t been enough, he’d made it a point to avoid coming outside at all until she’d left the house this morning.

He had the will of a monk. Or a eunuch. The flash of her cootchie as she’d walked up the stairs hadn’t elicited more than a frustrated groan from the man. She couldn’t deny she’d slammed the door to her room because he hadn’t stormed up after her, overtaken by lust. Then, last night after their wild, erotic kiss that had involved a whole lot more than lips and tongues, he’d still stuck to his terms and walked out on her.

She’d gone to bed full of need and hunger, dying to be filled. Thinking about it later, however, she forced herself to concede she’d been lucky. She’d already listed the million-and-one reasons why she couldn’t get involved with Oliver right now. A little wine and the offer of a kiss had made her forget them, but there was no harm done. He’d ended it, and she was glad.

Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she would begin to believe it. “This sucks,” she mumbled.

“What’s that sweetheart?” a voice asked.

She looked around to see a bunch of guys in dusty gym clothes and ball caps, who had just sat down in the booth directly behind hers. One of them was leaning over the back of his seat, invading her space, and her contemplation.

“Nothing, sorry,” she insisted, her tone polite but cool.

“Hey, we won our game, how about joining us for a celebration?” said another of the men.

Good grief. Did men really think single women eating alone in restaurants were just praying a table full of sweaty dudes would invite her to join their six-some? The guys looked harmless—stockbroker, businessman types, in matching gym shorts and shirts and pricey sneakers. She didn’t feel threatened. Nor, however, was she at all interested. “No, thanks.”

Before she had to elaborate, she heard a ringing from her purse. Coming from L.A., where people’s cell phones were connected to their heads by magnetic beams or something, she’d developed a loathing for anyone who yakked on one in public. Especially in a restaurant. But now, the excuse to cut short a conversation with some overly friendly jocks was most welcome.

When she saw the name on the caller ID, she was even more grateful. She’d talked to Tommy a few times since leaving home and he always managed to distract her from her troubles…usually by talking about his own.

His were always more interesting, anyway. Hmm, this sexy rock star or that studly NBA player? Decisions, decisions.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said, her voice louder than technically necessary, just to underscore the point with the on-the-make guys. One of them continued to hover over the back of her booth, so she upped the lovey-dovey factor. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Missed you, too, sugar lips,” Tommy said with a laugh. “Who’s listening? Grandpa? Biker gang? Jealous she-hag?”

“Nothing of the sort. I’m at a pub, where I just finished dinner. It looks like it’s a popular hangout for the local athletes.”

“Any delicious athletes?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, come on, girlfriend, you losing your vision?”

Maybe for some things. She hadn’t really been able to see any man since meeting the only one she wanted.

“Maybe just my enthusiasm.”

Not to mention her opportunities.

“Any idea when you’re going to be able to leave there yet?”

“I suspect I’m going to be here until the day you need me to come back,” she admitted.

He grew serious. “Is your grandfather doing that badly?”

“No, he’s doing very well. But I want to be around to cheer him on during rehab—it’s tedious and painful. Plus I want to be at the house for him when he first comes home.”

“When will that be? Will it leave you enough time for a trip? Maybe you could go to Montreal? They speak French. Or hey, there are lots of hunky Spanish-speaking dudes in Mexico. Doesn’t Cancun sound awesome?”

“I don’t think so. But I won’t stay too long after he gets home. He’ll have home health aides come in, and Madison said she could fly in from back East to relieve me in ten days or so.”

“How is Mad, bad and dangerous to know?”

She chuckled. “Same old, same old. Ready to dive into her career playing hotshot reporter, fighting city hall, exposing corruption and never letting a man get the upper hand.”

“The Reid sisters—toughest girls of Blue Lake Elementary.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“How could I? You two both acted as my beards at one time or another in high school. I couldn’t have made it without you.”

“Aww, you’re such a romantic. How could we resist? You know Madison and I have both always been totally hot for you.”

The eyeballs were probably popping out of the heads of the guys behind her now. They were likely envisioning wild threesomes and naughty hook-ups. Huh. Other than the threesome part, she was right there with them. Two would be quite enough for the hook-up that had been on her mind all week.

“Ooh, kinky. Gonna be that kind of wife, huh?”

“Don’t push it,” she muttered under her breath.

She settled into the corner, feeling her tension drift away. Talking to Tommy was like talking to a therapist. But she didn’t want to talk to him about Oliver. Mainly because she knew her friend—he’d encourage her to jump the other man’s bones or live to regret it later.

She already knew she was going to regret it later. That didn’t mean she could do it now. First, because he wasn’t the bone-jumping type; he was the type you lost your heart, body and soul to and lived the rest of your days pining for.

He also wasn’t interested. Well, he was interested; he just wasn’t going to act on that interest. So she couldn’t, either.

“Sounds like you’re really not going to have much time for booty calling your way across North America, much less Europe.”

“No. I’m not.” She held her breath, wondering if there had been any change, if the urgency had died down. Not wanting him to think she was backing out on him, she didn’t ask.

Finally, he said, “Did you catch TMZ last night?”

“No, Grandpa only gets basic cable. Why?”

“Let’s just say it’s getting a little more uncomfortable down here. I guess me being seen around town without a woman—namely you—on my arm is making those engagement rumors die down. And others spike back up.”

Was he asking if he could announce their engagement? Oh, she hoped not. She wasn’t ready for that. She hadn’t even had a chance to explain it to her family, though she knew they would understand. Tommy had spent just about every summer in her backyard when they were kids. They knew who he was and loved him almost as much as she did. They wouldn’t necessarily approve, but they would understand she was marrying him out of loyalty, love and friendship. Still, she wanted to tell them herself before any stupid tabloid got hold of it.

“Why don’t you stay home more often then?”

“I’m in demand, hot stuff. Gotta see and be seen.”

God, she was not looking forward to being part of that. Except the red-carpet Oscar stuff. That should be an experience. Of course, it would be better if she were walking that carpet as a nominee, rather than the wife of one, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Considering she still hadn’t nailed down her next project—she’d done the sketches she was asked for and sent them in, but hadn’t heard anything yet—she doubted an Oscar nomination for best costume design would be coming her way very soon.

“Well, gotta go, babe. There’s a party with my name on it.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

Then, again because she sensed the guys in the next booth were listening, she added, “I love you.”

“You know, once you’re wearing my ring, guys won’t be hitting on you all the time.”

“That goes both ways.”

“Bite your tongue!”

“Bye, Tommy.”

“Bye. Love you, sugarplum.”

She disconnected the call, glanced at the time and realized it was now nine. Probably not late enough for Oliver to be in bed, but late enough that she’d look weird and pathetic showing up at his door and thus wouldn’t be tempted to find an excuse to knock on it. So she figured it was safe to call it a night.

She lifted her hand to call for the check, but before she could catch the young waitress’s eye, her vision was blocked by a big jean-and-T-shirt-clad body. A body she’d know anywhere.