Best of Temptation Bundle Page 29

  “I said I wanted to see all of you, sweetheart.” He knelt before her, his murmur sending a hot burst of air skittering through her curls. “Exquisite.”

  Without warning, he took her in his mouth, bracing his hands on her buttocks and pressing her to him fully. She gasped and held her breath while bolts of lightning crisscrossed her inner eyelids and then traveled down each and every nerve. Weakened, she fought to hold the bar. If she let go, she’d break the magic spell he wove with his mouth.

  His tongue swirled within her while his hands smoothed up her legs. She whimpered, her eyelids flying open when he pinched her buttocks, lightly, but enough to bring her full attention to the needs of her lower body. The contrast between the pain of his tweaks and the sweet gentleness of his tongue made her cry out his name.

  He hummed his approval inside her, then lifted her right knee and slung it over his shoulder, tilting her to a perfect angle for his loving. “Scream out, honey. Tell me what you like. Tell me if you want more.”

  She could hardly think while his tongue plundered and his fingers plucked. She’d never imagined such delight.

  “More. Yes, more.”

  He pinched her harder and slipped his tongue deeper, discovering the pinpoint of her need. Her cry reverberated over the music of the forgotten CD. She gasped for air when he slipped one hand between her legs to aid his mouth in pleasuring her. One finger and then two slid inside until she could no longer contain the pressure.

  In moments, she was lost. Her arms went limp, but her hands held fast. She shook and shuddered and cried with the explosion. His mouth never abandoned her—not even after the convulsions ceased. Then, gently, he kissed his way up to her mouth, pried her hands free from the bar and lifted her into his arms.

  She forced her eyes open, her eyelids fluttering against the suddenly harsh light. “Where are we going?”

  He placed a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose. “Not far.”

  A few feet away, he released her, sliding her down the rigid length of his body. Still wobbly, her legs barely supported her weight. He sat on the edge of the low cushioned bench beside his free weights and leaned back against the tilted padding.

  He held his hand out to her, but she hesitated, enjoying the view of his long, lean torso. Toned and glistening with a mixture of perspiration and pool water, his body was large and hard and perfect. Though spent, she ached to see him naked, to feel him deep inside.

  He folded his hands behind his head, his grin cocksure. “Second thoughts?”

  She shook her head, licking her lips like he had just minutes—or was it hours?—before. Spotting the switch on the mirror, she lowered the lights to a warm amber glow.

  “You’re overdressed.”

  He laughed, and the sound compelled her more than the rhythmic beat still blaring from the stereo. Unbound, Grant laughed and smiled and took and gave with such abandon, her heart swelled. And her body craved him even more.

  Now would be her turn to give.

  He discarded his shorts quickly, pulled something from the pocket, then reclined on the workout bench and laced his hands behind his head once more. He waited for her to make the next move, as if he relished relinquishing control.

  She bit her bottom lip, suddenly shy and unsure. She hadn’t planned this seduction, but she’d done everything she could to encourage him. He hadn’t disappointed her. She felt alive. Powerful. Her incredible climax still reverberated through her tingling skin. How could she ever reciprocate with equal skill?

  “Harley, come here.”

  She obeyed, nearly floating on the intimate wave of his voice. He pulled up on his elbows, and his eyes narrowed just enough for her to sense his scrutiny. Without a word, he held out his hand, captured her, and reeled her in.

  Of her own volition, she kneeled beside him and closed her eyes, drowning in the warm tide of his closeness. He lazily ran a finger up the outside of her arm, then across her collarbone and down to her breast.

  “I love touching you.”

  She took his hint. Starting at his ankle, she smoothed her palm up his calf and over his knee, burying her fingers in the dark hair shadowing his powerful thighs. She glanced up when he reclined, his face a mask of rapture, but then concentrated again on exploring him with complete fascination.

  He groaned when she surrounded his sacs with a gentle caress. When she traced his shaft from hilt to tip, he gasped aloud and breathed her name. Emboldened, she wrapped her entire hand around him.

  He’d stopped touching her, and yet she yearned for him. Her mouth watered, her breasts ached, her body quivered at the realization she’d soon have him inside her. Deep inside. Touching her where she felt sure she’d never been touched—connecting with her on a plane far beyond her comprehension.

  But first, she’d know every inch of him, just as he now knew her. Without a second thought, she took him in her mouth. His moans became a music more sensual and suggestive than any she’d ever heard. She spanned his chest with her hands, plucked at his peaked nipples, measured his pounding heart beneath her moistened palms.

  “Harley, I need you. Now.”

  He positioned her to straddle him, balancing her on his thighs. Tearing open the condom he’d snatched from his shorts, Grant sheathed himself quickly then grasped her hips and slid her forward until his tip teased her.

  “Tell me you want this, sweetheart. Tell me now or…”

  She placed two fingers over his mouth, braced her other hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She wanted Grant so fiercely, with such concentrated longing, she knew she’d never experienced such desire. A need so intimate and yet so extreme could never be forgotten. Never.

  Grant was her chivalrous rescuer, saving her from the evil nothingness—a fantasy lover with whom reality could never exist, but a dream could be nirvana. She had one chance, one night to scorch the essence of his power into her hungry soul.

  She scooted back, guiding him inside her. “Make me never forget.”

  “Either that, or I’ll die trying.”

  Grabbing her by the hips, he entered swiftly. She cried out again, startled by his thick length—and by her own tightness. Her body encircled his with the snugness of a woman whose last lover was in the distant past.

  But she couldn’t spare the brainpower to decipher the contradiction between her profession and her inexperience. She could think of nothing else but going with Grant to the height of ecstasy.

  “Oh, Grant.”

  He forced his eyes open. Wonder flushed her skin from her cheeks to her breasts, darkening her nipples and widening her eyes. Grant knew being inside her would be beyond his wildest dreams—but reality left him breathless. He cupped her supple buttocks and pressed her down, hissing choked air through clenched teeth as she descended his length.

  She was tight. Not virgin tight, but her inner muscles clamped around him, milking him with the sweet spasms of a woman who hadn’t been made love to nearly enough, but who relished the sensations now. His heart swelled as fully as his shaft. Harley didn’t fear the self-surrender real lovemaking demanded. She embraced the experience. Challenged it. Pushed their desires past all limits and expectations.

  He’d never known such ecstasy.

  He drove deeper until he could go no further, then braced his feet on the ground, pulled in his knees and sat up completely. She screamed again and tossed her head back, groaning as he ground his sex into hers. Cupping her buttocks, he suckled her breasts as the new angle increased their pleasure. Raging heat surged inside him. They’d reached the precipice. He wouldn’t last much longer.

  Using her thighs to match his movements, Harley plunged with her own power, stroking him with her body, loving him straight to his soul. She discovered a stirring rhythm, then played, faster and faster until Grant felt the room rock.

  “Harley, I, oh,” he muttered before seizing her mouth with his and lifting his body off the bench, fusing them to the core.

  “Yes, Grant, yes.” Her shouts urged him, be
gged him to come with her into the insanity of fruition.

  Easing her backward, he cradled her spine, laid her on the weight bench and drove one final time. Liquid heat poured out of him, accompanied by a liberating bellow that burned his lungs and throat. His eyes sprang open, but he could see nothing but a dizzying halo of prismed light.

  In the center of the rainbow, Harley smiled.

  He remained inside her, panting, unable and unwilling to speak. She curled her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his damp hair, splaying light kisses along his collarbone and neck. Slowly, the tension eased and Grant’s legs and back cramped. Still, he didn’t move. For the briefest of moments, he considered staying inside her forever.

  “Ow.”

  Her tiny protest, spoken as she attempted to shift her position on the bench, spurred him to see to her comfort. He disentangled her legs from around his hips and scooted back, straddling the bench. “Sorry, honey.”

  She frowned when he pulled away, a sweet little pucker of lips that reminded him of a spoiled child. He couldn’t help grinning.

  “What are you smirking at?” she asked.

  He braced his hands on her waist and helped her sit up. “At you. At that face.”

  Coiling her arms around his neck, she shifted her legs back around his waist and pulled herself forward. Her nipples, still peaked and hard, rubbed his chest. A fragrant steam seemed to waft from her skin. Still warm and wet from their lovemaking, she pressed against him boldly. Amazingly, he stiffened in response.

  “I only had one condom, Harley.”

  She sighed and kissed him on the jawbone. “What a shame.”

  Snuggling her soft cheek against his chest, Grant closed his eyes and cursed his conservative life-style. Guys like his brother, Gus, or best friend, Mac, probably kept dozens of prophylactics on hand for just this kind of emergency. But not Grant. Oh, no. He’d thrown out his supply along with his wedding photos. Like the pictures, they only reminded him of his meager sex life.

  He kissed the top of her head. “A crying shame, sweetheart. And unfortunately, Wellesley Manor residents voted down the proposed all-night convenience store. Attracts too much riffraff.”

  Her deep-throated chuckle warmed him, contrasting with the gooseflesh prickling her skin. He rubbed her back vigorously, inhaling a sensual scent he’d forever associate with the best night of his life—and with the amazing woman who radiated the sweet, musky fragrance. Despite the spent condom still covering him, the chilly atmosphere of the air-conditioning, and the solid knowledge that they couldn’t make love again tonight—at least not with some semblance of safety—a rush of renewed passion surged through him.

  He’d started calculating time and distance to the nearest twenty-four hour drugstore outside his neighborhood when Harley traced the shell of his ear with a tongue-moistened finger and then whispered to him, “Other things don’t necessarily need a condom.”

  Two seconds, maybe three, passed before he thought of several delicious possibilities. “I like the way you think.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s not waste another minute.”

  8

  THEKAMASUTRA came in handy. Resigned to save the chapters on sexual positions for another time, Grant ended his night of fantasy with Harley by practicing several different forms of sensual touching. By candlelight, she’d recited arousing passages in her deep sultry voice while he massaged every inch of her with a sweet-smelling oil he’d found in his downstairs guest bathroom. He discovered her ticklish spot behind her knee and a star-shaped birthmark on her pert rear end.

  He also learned how much he adored her breasts. Round and creamy white. Dark areolas. Rock hard nipples. And sensitive. With only the palm-warmed oil and his hungry hands and mouth, he’d caressed and pinched and laved her to a slow but searing climax.

  Then she’d returned the favor. She’d found erogenous spots on his body he never knew existed. Her hands made him delirious; her mouth drove him over the edge. If not for the unfairness to Harley, he would have ignored his principles regarding safe sex and made love to her without the half-dozen condoms he would have needed to satisfy his appetite.

  Instead, their private lessons taught them all the exotic ways of loving. By sunrise when he’d tucked her in his bed and stroked her until she fell asleep, Grant knew and worshipped every inch of Harley’s body—every pulse point—every erotic zone. The knowledge would stay with him forever, no matter what he discovered about her identity when he took her to Moana’s apartment after the wedding.

  Too keyed up to nap more than an hour, Grant sneaked out of bed early, showering and dressing without rousing Harley from her fitful sleep. Once, she’d struggled with a disturbing dream, but by the time he reached her side, she’d settled down. His heart had stopped in that quiet moment. Had she remembered something distressing, something ugly from her past? Was Gus right that her conscious mind kept dark memories silent behind a blank wall? Whatever the situation, Grant swore he wouldn’t allow Harley to return to any life not worthy of her special magic. After the rapture she’d brought to him, he’d move the sun and the moon to ensure her happiness.

  Unwilling to wake her so early, he scribbled another quick note and left it on her pillow, grabbed his keys and headed to Tampa to pick up his tuxedo for the wedding.

  Of course, he stopped at the drugstore first.

  The drive to Tampa was short, just under half an hour. Westbound traffic on I-4 moved quickly, while the eastbound side chugged along with tourists heading toward Orlando’s numerous attractions. Grant set the cruise control at 65 miles per hour and watched the road while orange groves and strawberry fields rolled by on either side.

  Having made this drive more times than he could count, his mind replayed the last forty-eight hours—and anticipated the next. Though he’d found Moana’s phone number on the kitchen table before he left, he resisted the urge to call. As much as he wanted Harley to regain her memory and start piecing together her past, he couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving. Surely, he could use his Phi Beta Kappa intellect to figure out how to keep Harley in his life and prevent him from losing his job if someone discovered her past.

  But the solution couldn’t involve lies. Lies always unraveled. Always. His review of his time with Harley was a prime example. He’d convinced himself and the world that he was a serious, dedicated professional who’d do nothing to jeopardize his career, no matter the cost to his personal life or happiness. Yet in less than two days, he’d exposed his truest longings and acted out his favorite fantasies with a woman he hadn’t known long enough to trust, but did.

  He’d never done anything so wonderfully irresponsible. And he had no one in particular to blame for the sameness of his life but himself. His parents never made him the responsible child to offset Gus’s foibles. They were loving, freethinking intellectuals who found silver linings in the darkest clouds. Grant chose to be the reliable, steady son, basking in the shine of his parent’s pride and his importance in the family.

  In school, Grant had done the same—picking the role of model student instead of falling in with the slightly less savory and definitely more interesting guys who drove fast cars and celebrated D’s with the same thrill as he did A’s. He’d played tennis and golf instead of football. Studied economics rather than shop. Dated debutantes instead of cheerleaders.

  Even his marriage had been more of a logical next step than a reflection of love or lasting passion. Camille had been beautiful, of course, but in a cool, refined way. Their pairing was mutually beneficial rather than exciting or passionate or impulsive. Despite his secret fantasies, even his lovemaking with Camille never strayed from the predictable. When it had once, in his attempt to avoid an inevitable divorce, Camille had called him a pervert.

  Considering the source, the insult was more a reflection of her hang-ups than his, and solidified his decision to end his counterfeit marriage before he lost his sanity. But instead of using the split as impetus to a sorely n
eeded life change, he fell back into the same old reputable rut.

  Until last night. Until Harley.

  She possessed no more knowledge than any other woman he’d known, but her open abandon and sexual curiosity spurred him to shed all inhibitions and ignore every possible consequence. Nothing had mattered but pleasing her. Learning her. Learning about himself.

  In the morning’s light, he recognized the risk he’d taken. Though Harley would never intentionally hurt him or his career, her presence alone could set enough tongues wagging to bring his prosperity to a complete stop. Disclosing her presence to his neighbor, even innocently, could have already started his downward momentum. Yet she had done her best to allay Mrs. Langley’s suspicions with logical explanations that sounded nothing like the lies they were. He admired her inventiveness. Hell, after last night, he practically worshipped it. He could get used to having Harley around on a long-term, daily basis.

  The thought startled him. He tapped his brake unnecessarily, causing the driver behind him to sound his horn and pull around him, flashing the universal sign of displeasure.

  How could he ask Harley to stay in his world—one that would eventually drain her of the very qualities he coveted?

  The answer was—he couldn’t.

  Grant shook himself, pressed the gas pedal and resumed his normal speed. If only he could resume his normal life as easily. Never mind that he didn’t want his old life or his old ways back. Never mind how the lies exhausted him, ate at him with more fury than any ulcer.

  Even if he wanted to abandon his controlled and conservative life, he couldn’t. Not yet. Nanna Lil needed him. So did Gus. What little he had in the way of family roots were grown in Citrus Hill. He couldn’t deny that just because of his hormones. Of course, he wouldn’t be trapped here forever. Circumstances would change. But by then, Harley would be long gone.

  He clicked on the CD player. On a whim, he’d grabbed the George Michael disc from the gym before he’d left. The sound of reverent organ music, the prelude to the title track, filled the car. As the British rocker started to sing about “faith,” a plan formed. Maybe he and Harley couldn’t have a future, but the here and now—at least for today—was wide open. With a little finesse, he could plant himself more firmly in Harley’s present, and let the past and the future fend for themselves.