IT WAS A GOOD DAMNED thing he was holding on to her, Eli thought, as Shelby’s tight, hot channel squeezed greedily around him. Little white spots danced behind his lids, his knees weakened and, though he hadn’t “detonated on impact” so to speak, since his early teens, he came hellishly close to doing just that.
Because she felt so good. Better than good. Better than great. Better than anything he’d ever felt in his life. She was eager and responsive, her keening cry as she clung to him the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life. Her need sharpened his own; they sparked off each other until they were little more than two flames curling around each other.
Anchoring an arm around her waist and one on her hip, Eli drew back then pushed into her again, burying himself to the root. He was mindless with desire, bent on nothing but her pleasure, on making her his, focusing solely on what was happening between them.
He’d been thinking about this for years, dreaming about losing himself inside of her, filling his hands with her breasts, smelling her sweet skin, tasting those unbelievably carnal lips...but nothing could have prepared him for the genuine article.
She was exquisite, beyond compare.
Rosy-tipped breasts, flushed skin, the ripe curve of her ass...
At some point she’d taken her hair down and the long tendrils hung loosely around her small shoulders. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, her eyes had darkened to a deep jade and her lids hung at half-mast, as though they were too weighted with pleasure to fully open.
She held on to him, her hands sliding over his back, his ribs, then she raked her nails gently down his chest, grazing his nipples in the process and the little sting of pain sent a bolt of heat directly to his groin, surprising him with its intensity. He plunged in and out of her, over and over, harder and harder until sweat dewed on her body and the mewling groans coming from her throat grew more pronounced. She tightened around him once again, squeezing his cock so hard he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming.
Not yet, dammit.
He’d deliberately kept his hands off of her when he’d kissed her because he’d known—known—that when he touched her, that would be it. He’d lose it. And he had. Instead of taking her to bed, like he’d dreamed of doing—or hell, even lowering her to the floor, which would have made more sense—he’d ricocheted off the bleeding walls until he’d found the little table and sat her there. The back edge of the table hit the wall and the legs squeaked across the floor with every thrust into her, every frantic push into her achingly tight little body, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t. Because everything he had, everything he’d ever been or ever would be, was wrapped up in her.
She bent forward and licked his nipple, blew on it, sending gooseflesh skittering across the small of his back, then she reached around him and grabbed his ass, squeezing it with a possessive growl of delight that made him want to beat his chest and roar.
He pumped harder, his balls tightening, heralding the first flash of orgasm. He could feel it gathering force in his loins, strengthening like a tropical storm over the gulf. Lightning bolts of pleasure struck him, electrifying every cell in his body, and need thundered through his blood. She bent forward again, lightly sinking her teeth into the tiny sensitized nub of his nipple and he exploded.
Release blasted through him, rocking him to his core, shaking his foundation. Every muscle alternately froze then melted, making him tremble and shake against her. She held on to him, then bent forward and sucked hard on his shoulder while tightening rhythmically around him, her feminine walls drawing every ounce of pleasure out of him, while her mouth mimicked the intimate act.
Bloody damned hell...
He’d died and gone to cock heaven, Eli thought, as the last vestiges of release pulsed through him.
She pressed a kiss against him, then drew back to look at him. Her eyes sparkled with sated desire and her lips curled into a satisfied smile. He felt that grin set like a hook in his chest and tug. He was doomed, Eli thought. But he’d figured that out a long time ago.
Her eyes widened significantly and she exhaled a lengthy breath. “Oh, my God. That was...”
“Epic,” he finished, smiling down at her.
“Wicked good,” she added.
He lifted her up and helped her down off the table, stupidly delighted when she wobbled a little on her feet. His clearly weren’t the only knees that were malfunctioning. “Long overdue,” he improvised.
Her eyes warmed. “The prologue.”
He liked the sound of that, Eli thought, smiling. “What do you say we finish this conversation in the bathtub?”
She grinned. “You get the towels and I’ll get the booze.”
Ten minutes later, they were settled at opposite ends of the old cast-iron bathtub, her feet resting on either side of hips. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Eli said broodily. He’d wanted her to lean back against him, let him hold her. “But I have to admit this position has its advantages.” Her head rested against the lip of the tub, her bare breasts playing peekaboo with the water. She looked relaxed and gorgeous, innately sensual.
“I wanted to be able to look at you,” she told him, running her fingers along the inside of his calf. “I have to be able to see your face. It’s the only glimpse I get into your head.”
He snorted, took a pull from the bottle they were sharing. “What are you talking about? You’re always in my head. Most of the time it’s damned uncomfortable,” he admitted grimly.
She smiled, seemingly pleased.
“And you like that, don’t you? You like winding me up so you can watch me spin,” he said.
Her gaze tangled with his. “You don’t spin enough,” she said, startling the hell out of him. “You keep everything so tightly locked down that when you finally let go, you have absolutely no control. You’re a pressure cooker,” she explained, as though that was supposed to make sense.
He arched a skeptical brow. “A pressure cooker?”
“Yes. You do your best work under pressure. It’s your element, what gives you control. You’re fast and efficient and are more comfortable at boiling point. But when your regulator gets jammed and you don’t have any way to let off the steam, you explode.” She grinned widely. “And it’s awesome.”
Much as he hated to admit it, disturbingly, her analogy made sense. He did like to be in control—years of not having any would do that to a person. That’s what had always scared him about Shelby. She was the only person who’d ever been able to make him lose it.
It was terrifying. And wonderful.
“You know what I like best about watching you spin?” she asked, her tone light.
He wasn’t altogether certain he wanted to find out. “I’m sure you’ll tell me,” he drawled.
“It’s what comes out of it. It’s you, unfiltered. Genuine.”
He laughed uncomfortably. “I’m beginning to wonder if I should be lying on a couch.”
She playfully flipped her foot, splashing him with water. “Go ahead and make fun,” she said. “But you know I’m right.”
She was, damn her.
She shifted, scooting forward until she straddled him. He settled his hands at her waist, looked up at her. Moonlight cast a halo around the back of her head and her creamy skin gleamed in the night. She was warm and wet and beautiful and...everything, he realized with a short breath. He ached, looking at her. Burned.
She framed his face with her hands, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. Her touch was reverent, awed. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” she asked, her voice low and foggy. “Just touch you.” She leaned forward and slipped her nose along his jaw, breathing him in. “Just feel your skin beneath my hands.”
Heat pooled in his loins, rousing him instantly, and she slipped over the length of him, undulating her hips.
“Are you going to be okay with this, Eli?
Really?” She shifted, taking the engorged head of his cock barely into her body, and waited. “Because if you’re not, then you need to tell me now,” she said. “I don’t want to wake up in the morning and see any regret or guilt on your face.” She rested her forehead against his. “I couldn’t bear it. It would break my heart.”
She was breaking his right now. He hated that he’d made her doubt him, that she wasn’t sure of him, even after what had just happened between them.
Was their history complicated? Yes. Did he wish they would have met under different circumstances? Possibly. But considering he probably would have never met her at all without Micah, then that didn’t seem quite right, either.
He would be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that still felt odd about moving in on Micah’s girl, knowing how he’d felt about her. But Micah was gone and staying away from her—denying them both—wasn’t going to bring him back.
“I guess what I’m asking, Eli, is...am I safe with you? Can I trust you to want me enough? At least for this week?”
He nodded, his throat tight. “You’re safe with me, Shelby.”
He heard her sigh, felt the tension melt out of her body and she seated herself fully onto him, taking the whole of him deep into the heart of her. She was his water nymph. His goddess. His It Girl. He gritted his teeth as pleasure knifed through him, then gathered her close and kissed her deeply, with every bit of feeling he possessed.
Whether or not he was safe with her was another matter altogether.
* * *
MAVIS MERIWEATHER HAD lost her virginity at sixteen to a handsome college football player who would go on to become a state senator. That experience had lasted a grand total of three minutes—including the clumsy, slobbery foreplay—and had left her wondering why everyone was so mysteriously desperate to do it. It had been awkward, uncomfortable and messy.
While she would go on to take other lovers, some of them more talented than others—and a great deal of them famous—Mavis could count her bona fide, vaginal orgasms, brought about by an actual penis without any digital interference, on one hand.
Or at least she could—until yesterday.
When she’d made the impulsive decision to proposition Les, she’d never dreamed that he’d end up being the best lover of her life. That the unexpected confidence in his touch would enflame her more quickly than a hot flash. She’d never imagined that she’d sing the hallelujah chorus from his armchair while he lapped at her mythical g-spot with his tongue, or that she’d spend the rest of the evening sprawled naked on his Aubusson rug, drinking thirty-year-old scotch while he suckled her breasts in between the shaggings.
Rug burn, Mavis thought. At her age. She bloomed with pleasure.
Wasn’t it wonderful?
Honestly, when he’d deliberately rolled up his cuffs, then slid his hands beneath her dress, over her thighs, then gave her that little tug, she’d nearly had an immaculate orgasm right then.
There was something to be said about a man who didn’t hesitate, who acted, instead of reacting. It had been thrilling the way he’d taken control, hadn’t tried to pretty the business up with flowery words or insincere promises. It had been strictly about good sex, pleasure in exchange for pleasure. He’d wanted her—rather desperately, it seemed—and had made sure that she knew it, that she felt it.
There was nothing more gratifying for the ego than being desired and, considering she’d been feeling less and less desirable over the years—getting old was hell—Les’s reaction had been especially heartening. Making love was nice, but every once in a while a woman just wanted a good old-fashioned fucking, and that’s exactly what he’d given her.
Repeatedly.
In multiple, anatomical positions.
And with any luck, he was going to do it all over again tonight.
This arrangement could end up working well, Mavis thought, as she tidied a rack of clothing. Les was an interesting man whom the world had treated unkindly because of his condition and, while she hadn’t been unkind, she had to admit that the speech impediment had, initially, prevented her from taking a closer look at him.
Her mistake.
Les was interesting, well-read and good-looking,
and there was something especially attractive about the effort he put into communication. He had the most expressive face she’d ever seen and she could easily get more out of conversation with him, just by watching him, than any other man she’d ever met. He deliberately chose his words, because he had to, but that meant that he actually thought about them first. Another item on the pro list. And she suspected there were going to be many, many more.
* * *
WELL, WELL, WELL, Shelby thought, looking at the soft smile playing over Mavis’s lips when she and Dixie walked into the store. She set her purse
and sewing basket on the counter, then turned and grinned. “You look...remarkably relaxed.”
Mavis’s smile brightened and a soft blush rose beneath her cheeks. Shelby nearly did a double take. Mavis? Blushing?
“I take it Les accepted your proposition?”
She nodded. “He did.”
“And?” she prodded.
“And that’s all you need to know.”
Shelby blinked, her jaw dropping. “What? You mean after months of listening to you whine and complain about the sorry state of your sex life and the miserable pool of appropriate single men with any stamina in this town, you’re not going to dish? You’re not even going to tell me how it was? You? The reigning Queen of TMI?”
Mavis paused, seemed to consider. “All right. It was the best sex of my life,” she said. “If there was a Golden Penis Award, he’d win it, hands down, no question.”
Shelby bit the corner of her lip. “The Golden Penis Award,” she repeated, smothering a snicker. “Really?”
She had a candidate in mind for that, as well, Shelby thought, her belly fluttering at the thought.
“Really,” Mavis insisted. She gave Shelby a shrewd look, then a knowing smile tugged on her lips. “You look remarkably relaxed, as well,” she said, throwing the words back at her. “Dare I hope I wasn’t the only one getting an itch scratched last night?”
Shelby bit her lip, tried to squash an immediate, telling grin, but failed miserably. “I did,” she admitted. “But don’t tell anyone.”
Mavis frowned. “Why not?”
She hesitated. “Because I’m not sure where this is going, how we’re going to resolve things at the end of the week, and I don’t want to upset Carl and Sally.”
“You think Carl and Sally will mind? They’ve considered you a daughter for years. Your happiness is important to them, Shelby, and if you’ve found that with Eli, they’ll support you. I’m sure of it.”
“I know that it is, but I was engaged to their son and—” she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug “—and Eli was his best friend. It’s possible that they’ll consider it a betrayal.” She released a breath. “And it’s not worth risking if, at the end of the week, we decide—or he decides—that there’s no future for us. I live here,” she said, gesturing around her store. “My life is here. And he’s a career soldier.”
“So was Micah,” Mavis replied.
“Yes, but his family is here and he’d always planned on coming home.” She grimaced. “Eli’s family history is vague,” she said, her brow creasing. “I know that his father passed away when he was little and, if his mother is still living, then they don’t have a good relationship. He’s always come here on leave and never mentioned visiting any other family.”
Which was odd, really, Shelby thought now. Strange that she’d never really thought about that before, but it wasn’t like he’d simply appeared, fully grown. She’d never heard him mention his parents at all, or bring up any childhood memories for that matter. The only reason she knew that his father was dead was because Sally had mentioned it once in passing, one of those “bless his heart” comments.
“So what do you want to happen at the end of the week?” Mavis asked, her eyes kind.
Shelby bit the inside of her cheek, felt her chest fill with emotion, warm and tingly. She hugged her arms around her middle and felt a wobbly smile tug at her lips. “I want him to go AWOL.”
Her gaze twinkling knowingly, Mavis grinned. “I figured as much.”
Honestly, she couldn’t think about the end of the week without a big lump of dread forming in her throat. She knew what she wanted—she wanted him. She had wanted him for what felt like forever, and last night...
Last night had been more than she could have ever hoped for, ever anticipated. Considering the level of physical attraction, the fact that they’d had blazingly phenomenal, knock-the-world-off-its-axis sex wasn’t a surprise. She would have been more surprised if they hadn’t.
But it had been so much more than that. She hadn’t just longed for his touch, she’d longed for him. She’d wanted him. Touching him, tasting him, feeling his big hard body plunging into hers...it had been bittersweet, a relief so profound that she’d felt tears prick the backs of her lids and her body melt with emotion. It was almost as if something inside of her recognized some counterpart in him and now that she’d found whatever that was, nothing else—no one else—would ever do.
And while she knew that Eli definitely wanted her and cared for her, she wasn’t altogether certain that his feelings for her would trump the duty he felt he owed to Micah’s memory. Last night had been a huge step forward, she knew. She’d been afraid to look at him this morning, terrified that, despite the fact that he’d assured her he wouldn’t have any regrets, she’d see the guilt and self-recrimination in his dear face, anyway.
Thankfully, she hadn’t.
She’d awakened to a magnificent wall of muscle at her back, his thigh slung over hers, his loosely curled hand over her breast. She’d known the instant he’d awakened because he’d stilled, seemingly surprised, then had leaned over and pressed his nose into her hair, breathing her in.
He’d been happy, and nothing could have thrilled her more.
Would things ultimately work out for them? Would Carl and Sally be okay with it if they did? Could they keep the memory of Micah without it casting a shadow on their relationship? Truthfully, she didn’t know.
She only knew this—he was hers until the end of the week and she had every intention of taking advantage of it.
“Oh,” Mavis said, frowning. “I forgot.” She picked up an envelope Shelby hadn’t noticed from the end of the counter and handed it to her. “This had been slipped beneath the door when I came down this morning.”
Shelby’s heart began to pound and a sickening dread rose in her gut. She didn’t have to read it to know what it was, could tell from the block lettering on the outside, addressed to her. Until now they’d been coming through the mail. But evidently whatever they’d wanted to say couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
“Shelby?” Mavis queried, concerned. “You’ve gone pale. What is it? What’s wrong?”
Shelby released a shaky breath and, hands trembling, opened the letter, revealing a fuzzy picture of her and Eli from last night. In the tub. Oh, God...
Traitorous whore. You’ll be sorry. I’m going to tell.
Shelby sucked in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut as nausea pushed up the back of her throat.
Having peered around her shoulder, Mavis gasped. “My God. Shelby, what is this? Who sent you this?”
“I don’t know,” she said. But whoever it was had clearly seen them and was hell-bent on ruining her.