Suddenly One Summer
Page 43
“It’s not. I’m only half Cuban—I took my mother’s last name when I graduated from high school. By that point, I hadn’t seen my father in seven years, and it seemed like the right thing to do.” Thinking she’d shared enough, she redirected the conversation. “What about you? Have you and Nicole always been close?”
“Sure, I guess. Although when we were younger, with the nine-year age difference, it was more of a protective older brother–little sister dynamic. It’s really only been in the last few years that we’ve been in the same stage of our lives.”
“Oh, I still see plenty of that protective older brother–little sister dynamic,” she teased. Then she looked at him curiously.
“Now who’s about to be nosy?”
Turnabout was fair play. “The blonde I saw on your deck the other day, the one who said she loves you . . . What’s the story there?”
“I told you, we’re just friends. She’s like another sister to me.” He beckoned with his hand. “Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got, counselor—the blonde on my balcony. I expected far tougher questions from the illustrious Victoria Slade.”
So, that’s how it was going to be.
Game on.
Victoria looked over at the bookshelves next to them. Remembering how she’d wondered what the artwork, photographs, and odds and ends said about Ford, she got up and walked over.
She spotted something. “This is new.” Pointing to a silver model rocket, she looked over her shoulder. “Tell me about this.”
He paused, and then walked over. “My father and I built that when I was a kid. He died about a month ago, and I found it in a box of his things that my mom gave me.”
Victoria’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He gave her a half smile, repeating her words from the other day, when she’d mentioned the break-in. “Why would you?”
She said nothing for a moment, just looking into those brilliant blue eyes of his. Then she returned to her perusal of his shelves.
Very aware of how close he stood to her, and trying to ignore the flutters in her stomach, she spotted a hardcover edition of Factotum. She opened her mouth to say something dry—of course he liked Bukowski—when she felt his hands on her hips.
He brushed his lips against her neck and a heady rush of sensation flooded through her.
“What is this perfume?” he asked huskily. “It drives me crazy.” His mouth glided over the sensitive spot right below her earlobe.
She felt her legs go weak. When he did that, she could barely remember her name, let alone what perfume she was wearing. “The neighbor thing, Ford . . . that could get complicated.”
“Not if we don’t let it.” His fingers slid under her shirt and skimmed over her stomach.
She arched forward when he pulled down one of the cups of her bra. “This wouldn’t change anything between us,” she breathed unsteadily.
He glided his thumb over her tight, sensitive nipple, making her gasp. “That’s what makes it so perfect.” He pulled down the other side of her bra and cupped both her breasts, his fingers skillfully caressing the sensitive peaks.
Oh, God. She gripped the shelf in front of her, fighting the urge to whirl around and climb the man like a tree.
Then one of his hands slid underneath her skirt and past the lace trim of her underwear.
“You’re so wet for me, Victoria.” His voice had a more guttural edge. “Have you been thinking about me fucking you?”
She was definitely taking the Fifth on that one. But then he slid a finger inside her and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. “Ford.” She leaned back, pressing against the thick, hard ridge of his erection.
“Give me your mouth,” he growled.
She looked over her shoulder, so turned on that she moaned as soon as his lips touched hers. He claimed her mouth demandingly, his tongue battling hers in a hot, erotic kiss.
Not wanting to waste another moment, she spun around. He scooped her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the table.
As soon as he sat her down, both of their hands began to move feverishly. He slid her underwear down her legs, tearing them as he yanked them past her shoes. When he straightened, she tugged impatiently at the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head.
She paused momentarily, her mouth going a little dry as her eyes took in the sleek planes of his toned, broad chest and abs, the strong, corded muscles in his arms, and the light trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans.
She was so going to sex this man up.
He pushed her skirt up around her waist, spread her legs, and stepped between them. After tugging her shirt over her head, he made quick work of her bra, and his eyes darkened as he peered down at her.
She went back on her elbows invitingly, feeling an almost painful ache between her legs when he plumped one of her breasts in his hand and leaned forward to suck the tip into his mouth. She threw her head back, giving into the delicious sensations washing over her as he swirled his tongue over the tight bud. He pinched her other nipple and she gasped, a shiver of desire shooting down to her toes, and then he switched to that breast and soothed the aching nipple with his mouth.
Balancing on one elbow, she threaded her fingers through his thick, silky dark hair. “Ford . . . now.”
His mouth still on her breast, he yanked open the button on his jeans and unzipped his fly. Then he straightened up and grabbed a condom from the wallet in his back pocket.
She watched as he shoved down his jeans and boxer briefs. His eyes holding hers, he gripped his thick, impressive cock and slowly stroked it.
And here she’d thought her mouth had gone dry before.
His jaw clenched. “Baby, when you look at me that way . . . ” Instead of finishing the sentence, he ripped open the condom and rolled it on. Planting one hand against the table on each side of her, he settled between her legs, nudged her open, and slowly entered her, inch by inch.
Her nails scraped against the wood table as she moaned, feeling incredibly, exquisitely filled. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to move, slowly at first, letting her get used to him. Then he began to take her harder, the table creaking rhythmically as he pounded in and out of her.
“You feel so fucking incredible,” he rasped.
“Yes. Just like that.” She closed her eyes, letting go for the first time in what felt like forever, forgetting all about the break-in, and her panic issues, and everything else, and focusing only on the pleasure of the moment, the strong, cocky, annoying, gorgeous man who was driving her wild as his fantastic cock thrust in and out of her, so goddamn skillfully and rough and hard and perfect that she could scream.
“Sure, I guess. Although when we were younger, with the nine-year age difference, it was more of a protective older brother–little sister dynamic. It’s really only been in the last few years that we’ve been in the same stage of our lives.”
“Oh, I still see plenty of that protective older brother–little sister dynamic,” she teased. Then she looked at him curiously.
“Now who’s about to be nosy?”
Turnabout was fair play. “The blonde I saw on your deck the other day, the one who said she loves you . . . What’s the story there?”
“I told you, we’re just friends. She’s like another sister to me.” He beckoned with his hand. “Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got, counselor—the blonde on my balcony. I expected far tougher questions from the illustrious Victoria Slade.”
So, that’s how it was going to be.
Game on.
Victoria looked over at the bookshelves next to them. Remembering how she’d wondered what the artwork, photographs, and odds and ends said about Ford, she got up and walked over.
She spotted something. “This is new.” Pointing to a silver model rocket, she looked over her shoulder. “Tell me about this.”
He paused, and then walked over. “My father and I built that when I was a kid. He died about a month ago, and I found it in a box of his things that my mom gave me.”
Victoria’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He gave her a half smile, repeating her words from the other day, when she’d mentioned the break-in. “Why would you?”
She said nothing for a moment, just looking into those brilliant blue eyes of his. Then she returned to her perusal of his shelves.
Very aware of how close he stood to her, and trying to ignore the flutters in her stomach, she spotted a hardcover edition of Factotum. She opened her mouth to say something dry—of course he liked Bukowski—when she felt his hands on her hips.
He brushed his lips against her neck and a heady rush of sensation flooded through her.
“What is this perfume?” he asked huskily. “It drives me crazy.” His mouth glided over the sensitive spot right below her earlobe.
She felt her legs go weak. When he did that, she could barely remember her name, let alone what perfume she was wearing. “The neighbor thing, Ford . . . that could get complicated.”
“Not if we don’t let it.” His fingers slid under her shirt and skimmed over her stomach.
She arched forward when he pulled down one of the cups of her bra. “This wouldn’t change anything between us,” she breathed unsteadily.
He glided his thumb over her tight, sensitive nipple, making her gasp. “That’s what makes it so perfect.” He pulled down the other side of her bra and cupped both her breasts, his fingers skillfully caressing the sensitive peaks.
Oh, God. She gripped the shelf in front of her, fighting the urge to whirl around and climb the man like a tree.
Then one of his hands slid underneath her skirt and past the lace trim of her underwear.
“You’re so wet for me, Victoria.” His voice had a more guttural edge. “Have you been thinking about me fucking you?”
She was definitely taking the Fifth on that one. But then he slid a finger inside her and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. “Ford.” She leaned back, pressing against the thick, hard ridge of his erection.
“Give me your mouth,” he growled.
She looked over her shoulder, so turned on that she moaned as soon as his lips touched hers. He claimed her mouth demandingly, his tongue battling hers in a hot, erotic kiss.
Not wanting to waste another moment, she spun around. He scooped her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the table.
As soon as he sat her down, both of their hands began to move feverishly. He slid her underwear down her legs, tearing them as he yanked them past her shoes. When he straightened, she tugged impatiently at the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head.
She paused momentarily, her mouth going a little dry as her eyes took in the sleek planes of his toned, broad chest and abs, the strong, corded muscles in his arms, and the light trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans.
She was so going to sex this man up.
He pushed her skirt up around her waist, spread her legs, and stepped between them. After tugging her shirt over her head, he made quick work of her bra, and his eyes darkened as he peered down at her.
She went back on her elbows invitingly, feeling an almost painful ache between her legs when he plumped one of her breasts in his hand and leaned forward to suck the tip into his mouth. She threw her head back, giving into the delicious sensations washing over her as he swirled his tongue over the tight bud. He pinched her other nipple and she gasped, a shiver of desire shooting down to her toes, and then he switched to that breast and soothed the aching nipple with his mouth.
Balancing on one elbow, she threaded her fingers through his thick, silky dark hair. “Ford . . . now.”
His mouth still on her breast, he yanked open the button on his jeans and unzipped his fly. Then he straightened up and grabbed a condom from the wallet in his back pocket.
She watched as he shoved down his jeans and boxer briefs. His eyes holding hers, he gripped his thick, impressive cock and slowly stroked it.
And here she’d thought her mouth had gone dry before.
His jaw clenched. “Baby, when you look at me that way . . . ” Instead of finishing the sentence, he ripped open the condom and rolled it on. Planting one hand against the table on each side of her, he settled between her legs, nudged her open, and slowly entered her, inch by inch.
Her nails scraped against the wood table as she moaned, feeling incredibly, exquisitely filled. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to move, slowly at first, letting her get used to him. Then he began to take her harder, the table creaking rhythmically as he pounded in and out of her.
“You feel so fucking incredible,” he rasped.
“Yes. Just like that.” She closed her eyes, letting go for the first time in what felt like forever, forgetting all about the break-in, and her panic issues, and everything else, and focusing only on the pleasure of the moment, the strong, cocky, annoying, gorgeous man who was driving her wild as his fantastic cock thrust in and out of her, so goddamn skillfully and rough and hard and perfect that she could scream.
