All Summer Long

Page 20

“Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You’re in it for the sex and this is not me at my most appealing.”
She squeezed his hands and stared at him. “Hey, we’re friends. Whatever else is going on, that won’t change. As for you not being sexy, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Into the vulnerable thing? I don’t think so.”
“You’re wrong. You being real is much more appealing than any guy on a calendar. I didn’t pick you because of how you look. If you’ll remember, that actually freaked me out a little. I picked you because I trusted you. I still do.”
He pulled one of his hands free and stroked the side of her face. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I think of us as friends, too.” He kissed her mouth. “Good friends.”
She felt the exact moment his intentions shifted from conversation to something more. They weren’t touching anywhere except her hand in his and his fingers on her cheek, yet she knew she was right.
If asked a few days ago, she would have honestly claimed to be more interested in coffee and a Danish than anything a man could offer her. This morning, she was far more intrigued by Clay moving closer and pressing his lips to hers.
She parted her lips before being asked and met his tongue stroke for stroke. As the kiss deepened, she wrapped her arms around his neck, needing to get as close as possible.
He put his hands on her waist and quickly moved them higher. When he cupped her breast, she felt the contact all the way down to her toes.
She’d changed out of her uniform before leaving the station. Now she wore her usual jeans and a T-shirt. He explored her br**sts through the fabric, pausing to run his fingers across her tight nipples. She shivered with delight.
He reached for the hem of her T-shirt. She helped him pull it off. Her bra went flying. Then his mouth was on her right breast with his hand on her left. He licked and sucked, drawing her into his mouth.
Desire turned liquid. She trembled, hanging on to him, wanting him to never stop. The heat inside intensified. With each pull, she felt an answering tug between her legs. She needed this, needed more.
Her breathing ragged, she ran her hands up and down his back, then tugged at his shirt. He stopped and jerked it over his head before tossing it away. Then they were kissing again, her bare br**sts nestling against his perfect chest.
“Not like this,” he murmured against her mouth. “Not in the kitchen. But Charlie...” He swore. “I just have to—”
His hands dropped to the waistband of her jeans. He undid the button and then the zipper.
She drew back from their kiss, her breathing still fast. Apprehension battled with need. She saw the passion in his eyes and knew he was as aroused as she was. He gave her a gentle smile.
“Turn around.”
“What?”
The smile turned into a grin. “Turn around. That way you can run if you need to.”
Aware she was topless, she did as he requested. He drew her close and put his left hand on one breast then the other. At the same time, he kissed the side of her neck. The combination of sensations chased away lingering doubt. His body was warm against her. Almost protection. This was Clay, she reminded herself. She trusted him.
He put his right hand on her belly, his fingers pointing down. He didn’t move them, even as he continued to stroke her br**sts and tease her aching nipples. The tension returned and with it a need she hadn’t experienced before.
She knew about the whole concept of orgasms. After the rape, she’d done her best to avoid any sexual feelings. She ran from them, figuratively, most of the time. Occasionally literally. Now she found herself curious about what really happened. Was her body capable of surrendering that much? Would it be as great as everyone claimed?
Minutes passed. While his fingers worked their magic, his mouth nipped and kissed and licked her neck until she was having trouble catching her breath. She leaned more of her weight against him. Her hands fluttered at her side until she finally slipped them behind her to cup his narrow hips. She felt his erection against her rear and wondered what would happen if she turned and told him she was ready.
Before she could gather the courage, the hand on her belly moved. Clay eased his way under her plain cotton bikini panties. She felt the individual fingers, the pressure of his palm. She knew where he was going, although not what he would do when he got there. She froze, unclear on how she would react.
He slipped lower and lower, before sliding his fingers against her swollen flesh. He moved in a slow circle, passing over a spot that made her gasp.
It was like electricity, but not. Hotter, more intense, but just as jolting. Without meaning to, she parted her legs. No, that wasn’t right. She needed—
He circled again and again.
She shuddered, lost in the moment, unable to think about anything but what he was doing to her. She could feel her insides tightening, her legs trembling. He dropped his left arm to her waist and held on, as if supporting her. None of it mattered. Only what he did when he touched her.
He moved a little faster, pressed a little harder. She put her hands on his arm, hanging on. She pushed down, wanting more. Needing.
He withdrew his hand, which made her whimper. Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled.
She stumbled after him aware they were heading down the short hallway and toward her bedroom. When they reached it, he guided her to the bed.
“Shoes,” he said.
She kicked off the boots she’d worn that morning. Figuring it was too late to play hard to get now, she pushed down her jeans, taking her underwear with them, then stepped out of her clothes.
He looked her over, swore, then urged her onto the bed.
She was aware of him still wearing his jeans, although nothing else, as he joined her. Then he was kissing her and his hand was back between her legs and she really didn’t care what he had on.
Lying on her back, she was able to part her legs more. She rocked her h*ps in time with his steady movements. He shifted from kissing her mouth to kissing her br**sts and the sensations flooded her. She grabbed the bedspread with both hands and moaned.
He moved faster and faster. She couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t think she could only—
She’d heard it was like falling, she thought as the first contraction rippled through her. They were wrong. It was like flying. Her body shook and trembled as waves and waves of pleasure washed through her. There was more and more until it eased and waned and she was able to find her way back to her house, and her bedroom. She resurfaced and stared into Clay’s very satisfied face.
He’d propped his head up on his other hand and was still stroking her. Lightly, barely touching. A last little ripple shook her. With their eyes locked, he eased a little lower, then pushed one finger into her.
She supposed she should have gotten scared and tense but right now she couldn’t summon the energy. Plus, having him inside of her felt really good.
“Okay?” he asked, watching her intently.
“Oh, yes.”
“Good.”
He withdrew his hand, then leaned over and kissed her. “Like I said before, morning is your time.”
“If it always feels like that, anytime is my time.”
He pulled her close. She went into his arms and held on, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his bare shoulder.
“You’re welcome.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come on. There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. And I get first dibs on the Danish.”
“Didn’t you want to...” She motioned vaguely. “You should, you know.”
He smiled at her. “Next time. You’ve done well. Let’s not screw things up.”
She was torn, wanting to give him what he’d given her, but afraid of what would happen when they tried actual lovemaking.
He sat up. “I mean it. I’m fine.”
“I don’t believe you. Can’t we do to you what we did to me? Or is that not satisfying?”
For a second fiery passion flashed into his eyes, then he blinked and it was gone.
“Do you want to?” she asked, pouncing on the information.
“I don’t want to frighten you.”
She reached for the button of his jeans. “Come on. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”
He put his hand over hers. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I believe in playing fair.”
“An excellent quality.”
He pushed her fingers aside and quickly unfastened his jeans. He pushed them off, then his briefs, leaving him na**d to her gaze.
She stared at his whole body before settling her attention on his erect penis.
He was big and thick, but not scary. She did a quick internal inventory and found only eager expectation. She knelt between his legs and drew in a breath.
“Show me.”
“Always direct,” he said with a grin. “Give me your hand.”
She put her hand in his and let him guide her until she was holding on to his erection. He positioned her fingers, then moved her up and down in a steady rhythm.
“You sure you’re all right with this?” he asked.
“Please be quiet. I’m trying to give you an orgasm here.”
He chuckled and his eyes drifted closed. “It’s not going to take long.”
She continued to move the way he’d shown her. Up and down, running her fingers across the tip before slipping down the shaft. A sense of happy power filled her. She was able to please him, to touch him.
His breathing increased. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, then let her gaze drift over the rest of him. All the while she went up and down, up and down.
Without warning, he raised his head and looked at her. “Charlie,” he breathed, then his eyes closed and he came.
She stroked him until he laughingly told her stop. Then they cleaned up together and picked up the various pieces of their clothing.
By the time they were dressed and back in the kitchen, the coffee was long cold. She made it fresh and they sat together at the table, eating Danish and talking.
While they argued about cheese versus cherry pastries and shared what was going on in town, she was aware of a newfound sense of connection. Of wholeness. She wasn’t all the way back, but she’d made an excellent start on the journey.
“Thank you,” she told him.
He smiled and winked at her. “Anytime.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I’M NOT COMPLAINING,” Patience said with a grin as she flopped down on the grass. She was flushed and her breath came in short gasps. “I heard that was the kiss of death in your class.”
Her long brown hair spread out around her. Her eyes were bright with amusement, even as she struggled to catch her breath.
“You make it sound like I beat them,” Charlie grumbled, keeping an eye on the recruits who were in the middle of their three-mile run around the track. With thirty-pound packs on their backs.
Although her focus was training the volunteers for the CPAT test, the town had a standing invitation to join in any outside exercises. There were usually one or two who came along to the stair training. This morning Patience had joined them for the first half of the three-mile run. She’d turned down Charlie’s offer that she, too, wear the thirty-pound pack.
“You’re tough because you have to be,” Patience said, sitting up, her breathing more regular. “Speaking as someone who might need the services of the fire department someday, I appreciate that.”
“Thank you.”
Charlie watched the runners, her expert gaze looking for signs of distress. She made sure her attention didn’t linger on Clay, which took a lot of self-control. Not only was he pretty to look at, every time she caught sight of him, her entire body sighed in appreciation for what he’d done to her and for her. Tiny, interior cells were busy sending thank-you notes and begging for a repeat performance.
“Maybe if you told them you had to work hard to get where you are,” Patience said. “Women have a lot less natural upper body strength. I’ve seen you in the gym. You bust your butt, so to speak. I can’t seem to get past the pink weights.”
Charlie laughed. The “girl” weights, plastic and in a delicate shade of pink, only went up to ten pounds each. Charlie worked with the standard set of free weights. They were black, rather than pink, and a whole lot heavier.
“I could show you a few things,” Charlie offered.
“I’d like that,” Patience told her, then glanced at her watch. “But not today. I have to get home. Lillie and I have our afternoon planned. Ice-cream sundaes followed by a movie. I know one day she’ll be a teenager and rather eat glass than be seen with me, but for now, I’m one of her favorite people.”
“Lucky you.”
“I think so.”
Patience scrambled to her feet, waved and headed toward her car. Charlie watched her go, wondering if she would have had as much courage as her friend. She supposed having courage wasn’t the actual point. Patience had handled what life had offered.
Although she’d been married, her husband had ducked out after an affair. Which left Patience raising her daughter by herself. Added to that, Patience’s mother, Ava, had MS. There were good days and bad days.
Patience could have turned angry and bitter. Instead she was upbeat, optimistic and kind. Ava was the same and together they were raising Lillie.
Patience stopped to talk to a couple of older ladies who were walking along the outside of the track. Charlie recognized Eddie Carberry from her brightly colored tracksuit. The seventy-something whistled and pointed to Clay. He gave her a brief wave and kept on jogging.
Charlie wanted to complain but she, too, admired the view. He was a fine-looking man. Better than fine, she thought absently, wondering when they would have their next “lesson.” She was more than ready. She had a feeling the next time they were together, they would, um, complete the process. Imagining him inside of her made her squirm a little. She’d seen him na**d, had touched him and been touched. She wanted the rest of it. She wanted to know what it was like to be with him.