THEY DROPPED BYRON off with Lena, who greeted Jameson warmly, chatted cordially and, every time his back was turned, made lewd tongue-hanging-out faces at Kendra, who could barely keep a straight face. Yes, Lena, he was hot. A large part of the reason she’d decided spending tonight together was a good idea. For both of them. Both were in need of human contact and tenderness, and neither would risk much. He had a foot in the military and she’d discovered her parents’ deaths had left her with a reinforced steel wall around her heart to keep her from feeling too much. Funny how she hadn’t realized it was there for so long. A certain numbness after the initial agony of grief subsided was normal. But she hadn’t understood how effectively hers was working until it had faltered.
She loved the way Jameson was so playful and teasing and affectionate. When he’d introduced kissing into their friendship, she’d taken it as a flirting extension of the same. But an hour ago, during their walk on Rat Beach, after she’d been talking about her fears, a friend-to-friend confession, he’d kissed her differently. In response part of her wall had softened. Only a part, only for a short time.
But for that moment she realized how long it had been since she’d allowed herself to feel her own emotions. She’d become so used to—and so skilled at—repressing them in order to concentrate on her studies, and then, in her career, on the feelings of others, that she’d neglected herself.
So many things now made sense. Why she hadn’t moved out of Mom and Dad’s house. Why she hadn’t traded the car, bought a dog, left the area even for a short time—so many steps that would define a true end to her childhood and to her life as a daughter. Steps that would symbolize the embracing of her life as an adult woman. Alone.
All very deep thoughts, ones that would require more analysis and decisions, but as she pulled into her driveway, she decided that serious thoughts could damn well wait, because she was only about twenty yards from her bedroom and beside her was a guy she’d come to like a whole lot, and trust, and feel comfortable with—about as differently as she’d felt about him in high school as you could get.
As long as she made tonight about an extension of the playful fun between them, she’d be safe.
“Home sweet home.” She turned off the motor and smiled sweetly at Jameson as if she wasn’t planning to have him naked as soon as was decent after they got inside. She figured three or four seconds would do it.
“Nice to be here.” Jameson threw her a sexy sideways look as he opened the door. They were going to have fun tonight.
He joined her on the short walk to the house, which was taking forever.
“Lena seems great. I didn’t know her in school.”
“She’s as good as it gets.” Kendra’s keys were already out. “I would probably have lost my mind over the last couple of years without her.”
“Then I like her even more.”
The front door was open. They were inside.
Three...two...one...
No! Not yet.
“Would you like a drink?” She tossed her keys nonchalantly onto the table by the door, pretending she hadn’t just had a near panic attack.
“Sure. If you’re having one.”
“I think I will.” She strode toward the kitchen, aware of him following closely, wanting to turn and kiss him, but also...not. “Beer? Wine? Something stronger? Whiskey in honor of your father?”
“Got any bourbon?”
“We do. That is, I do.” She opened the cabinet that her father had kept well stocked. He and Mom hadn’t been big drinkers, but they’d liked their little sips every night, and they’d liked to be able to offer guests whatever they wanted. “Let’s see. Maker’s Mark, named after your brother, Old Grand-Dad, fortunately not named after your brother and Woodford Reserve.”
“Woodford. Excellent whiskey. Thank you. Are you having some, too?”
“Absolutely.” She took down the bottle, thinking she could use about a gallon. That kiss on the beach must have unsettled her more than she’d thought. Or maybe she was just nervous because it had been a while since she’d slept with a man. Not that she’d forgotten how.
She assumed.
The last guy she’d been with had been her year-older boyfriend in college, Grant, who’d decided he had to go on to law school unencumbered by anything as distracting as a woman in his life. Last she’d heard he’d flunked out because of too much partying.
Yeah, because that wasn’t at all distracting.
She took down two crystal tumblers from the glass-fronted cabinets next to the liquor. Might as well go fancy tonight. It was a special evening.
“Mind pouring for us?” Inspired, she headed for a drawer where her mother had kept candles and selected a few of the small, thick ones that fit into glass cups to shield the flames from the wind. A few Dove dark chocolates in a floral ceramic dish, a blanket her parents had kept in a drawer by the door for just such occasions and she was ready.
Out the back door, they went down the brick steps to the pool level, where chaises were laid out on the concrete deck ringed by trees.
On the table between two chaises, Kendra set up the candles and lit them. The glow was lovely, the air soft. Above them hung a moon, a bit more than a crescent, sharp white against the sky’s darkness. Around it a few stars were just beginning to be visible. A hot man who wanted her was settling beside her into a chaise, his long hard body stretching to fill it.
Yes. Kendra was ready now. Really ready.
She reached across to clink glasses, tossed back a good healthy swig of Woodford Reserve, loving the sweet burn, the rich smoky aftertaste. “Jameson.”
“Mmm?” He was savoring his whiskey properly.
“Would you like a chocolate?”
“Sure.” He reached for the bowl; she stopped him with an outstretched hand. “Let me.”
He looked at her over the candles, their light flickering across his handsome face. Something in her expression must have communicated itself to him because he shifted in his seat, took in a slow breath, then nodded. “Be my guest.”
The air around them turned electric. Distant city sounds and the faint rush of surf traveled from down in the valley. But up where they sat, all was silent except for the occasional whisper of a breeze through the trees.
Kendra got up and slowly unwrapped a chocolate square, peeling back the foil on each corner before exposing it completely. She put the small square halfway into her mouth, lips closed around its middle.
Jameson watched, only his eyes moving over her face, until she took a step toward his chaise. He moved to give her room to sit facing him.
“Kendra.” His voice was low, husky, sensual. “That looks really good.”
She planted a hand on his firm chest and leaned forward, expecting him to bite.
He didn’t. He closed his lips over the other half of the square and dragged his tongue across the chocolate, moistening it, melting it, so the rich taste spread between them.
She was finding it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything but the nearness of his warmth, the heat of his body and her need for both.
The kiss deepened; their tongues tasted the candy and each other until the chocolate was liquid, then gone, and they were left only with increasing passion.
Strong arms came around her. Jameson pulled her onto his lap, stroking a line from her shoulder down her side, lingering over her bottom, then back up and across her front, lingering again between her breasts until she was aching for the feel of his fingers on them.
His hands slipped under her top, stroked up her back and unhooked her bra, then traveled around with maddening leisure toward her breasts.
Impatiently, she sat up, yanked her shirt over her head, slid off the bra and tossed it behind her.
“Touch me, Jameson.”
His answer was a groan of satisfaction as his palms brushed over her nipples, then closed over her breasts. She arched into his touch, head back, eyes closed, the cool air around them intensifying the warmth of his skin.
He made her feel so beautiful, so alive, so powerfully sexy. As a woman she’d felt strong, capable, skilled and valued...but nothing like this.
She liked this. Increasingly, she liked everything about being with Jameson.
Except that he was still wearing clothes.
Her fingers tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, gray with the Dive ’n’ Surf shop logo and colorful surfboards. Nice shirt. Kendra wanted it off. She wanted to feel her breasts pressed against the hard wall of his bare chest.
The shirt flew back over her head. In the dim candlelight his torso was indeed a work of art, warm and male. She lifted to straddle him, feeling the length of his erection hot and hard through the thin material of his shorts and her panties. She leaned forward, rubbed her breasts over the muscled landscape of his chest, loving the stimulation, the intimacy, the sheer animal pleasure of skin on skin, of touching and being touched.
Breath escaped him as if releasing it was both pain and pleasure. His hands traveled to her hips, under the elastic waistband of her skirt, finding and stroking her buttocks, moving her over his erection.
“You feel incredibly good, Kendra.”
“Mmm.” She kissed his neck, inhaling his scent, immersed in her senses. “So do you.”
“I’ve wanted this since before I knew what it was.”
She giggled, raising herself up to look at him, gently tracing his lips with her finger. “That long?”
“Look at you.” He let his head fall back on the chair, pushing rhythmically under her, making her sway. “You are so beautiful.”
With him she felt that way, inside and out. So when he sat up, saving her from pitching backward with strong arms on her back, and twisted them over until she was lying beside him on the chaise, then underneath, she went willingly.
This was what she wanted for both of them.
Starting at her calf, Jameson drew one hand up the length of her leg, stopping to caress her sex through her panties, transferring warmth and pressure that made her feel less in control. Rather hot and desperate, in fact.
He lifted her skirt and wriggled down to kiss the material between her legs, his mouth warm and firm.
“Oh.” She closed her eyes, a slight breeze fanning her heated cheeks. “That is amazing.”
“So are you.” Gently he pulled down her panties, exposing her to the night air. “And you’re beautiful here, too.”
His finger explored, stroking, touching, barely any pressure. Heat lightning traveled up her body. She forced herself to lie still, wanting to pull his head down to her, wanting him inside her, needing release from the building pressure.
They had all night.
His first kiss was so light she didn’t recognize his lips until his tongue traveled up the length of her sex, parting her labia, ending with the lightest touch on her clitoris. Kendra’s body jerked in reaction. She forced her breathing to slow, unfisted her hands, made her muscles relax.
Torture. The very sweetest kind.
He took his time, tiny touches and strokes with his fingers and tongue, adding to her arousal incrementally until she thought she’d go out of her mind. No one had ever taken time with her like this, the intensity building until an orgasm was simply inevitable.
“Kendra.”
“Yes.” She barely recognized the shaky tone as her own voice.
“I would like to make love to you.”
“Yes.”
The word exploded out of her, making him chuckle. “You don’t sound very sure.”
God, he was sexy. Looking at her with one eyebrow quirked in pretend surprise, as if he had no idea what he’d been doing to her.
Then his smile faded. He undid his fly and stepped out of his clothes without ceremony, taking a condom packet from the back pocket of his shorts, rolling it on and sitting next to her, stroking her breasts, her stomach, gazing down at her body and then into her eyes.
“I’ve thought about this a lot, about how I thought it would feel with you. This is so much better. Better than my wildest fantasy.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Some of them were pretty wild.”
“Ooh.” She drew her hand down the center of his torso. “You’ll have to tell me about those.”
“This is better because it’s real. Of course. But also because it’s finally you and me, Kendra. The place we’ve been heading to for a long time, I think longer than either of us suspects. Out in this garden where we can see the moon and hear the ocean and smell the eucalyptus.” He put one hand on her heart, the other on his own. “You and me.”
Kendra stared up at him. She could say nothing. What did he mean? He almost sounded as if...
He moved over her. She opened her legs for him automatically, not sure what was happening, why after all this time of good solid clarity, her mind was a whirl of confusion or why she had a sudden urge to cry.
His penis nudged at her sex; she reached down and guided him in, felt him push, stretch her, push farther, in and out until he was filling her completely. Her body responded. Her brain still couldn’t grasp the moment or interpret her reaction.
Instinctively, she stopped trying, shut down her thoughts and concentrated on the sensations. The weight and motion of his body on hers, the welcome intrusion of his erection, the occasional caress of the breeze. The sweep of his broad back, the smooth planes of his skin, the swell of his buttocks, contracting and releasing. The climb of desire as he changed his motion, his rhythm, the force of his thrust, as if he was intent on experiencing every angle, every inch of her, inside and out, and had all the time in the world.
Sooner? Later? She couldn’t tell. Only that at some point her response gradually changed; her body was no longer content with simple arousal. Her hips moved faster. She tilted her pelvis, squeezed her internal muscles to hold him tighter.
Jameson groaned and dug his hands under her buttocks, thrusting harder. A light perspiration broke out on Kendra’s body; she felt her face flushing. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand gripping his side, the other clasping the back of his head.
The orgasm came on slowly, as if from a distance, gathered speed and power, rushing at her. She locked her legs around his, arched her back and let it sweep through her, holding herself rigid through the plateau of ecstasy, aware of Jameson’s body gathering itself, as well. As she burst into contractions he gave a low shout, pushed once more and held still.
As if imitating the rise and fall of their climaxes, wind rose, gusted, then quieted again. Something rustled in the garden.
Kendra lay clutching Jameson’s head, not wanting to let the moment go, aware of rising emotions that threatened to burst through her control. The steel wall was in danger.
He strained to lift his head; she made her fingers relax so he could, kept her eyes shut, concentrating on the smooth masculine feel of his body over hers, the tiny occasional pulsing aftershocks between their legs, some hers, some his.
This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. She should be able to laugh now, to tease him, to smile and feel affection and relief and pleasure. Instead there was again a mass of confusion and conflict she couldn’t begin to understand.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes obediently to his, their blue shade muted to gray in the darkness and flickering candlelight.
And then everything was clear.
With his arms around her she felt protected, safe, cared for. For once she was not in charge. For once someone else was taking the lead, watching out for her, keeping her safe.
Kendra enjoyed the revelation for all of about ten seconds, then the pleasure was replaced by the piercing pain of vulnerability, more severe than she’d felt since right after her parents died.
She was falling for him.
“I can’t,” she whispered, then realized she’d spoken out loud and shook her head, no, no, no. Fear was making her stupid.
“Kendra.” His brows drew down in concern. “You can’t what?”
“I don’t know.” To her horror, her voice was thick with tears. God, no, she couldn’t cry. He’d want to know what was wrong. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t even begin to tell him.
But the wave of grief was too powerful, too raw to be contained. Tears ran hot down the sides of her face. She pressed her fists over her eyes, as if the torrent could somehow be stopped. He’d think she was a lunatic.
He rolled off her and sat up. She didn’t blame him.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Strong arms drew her against him; gentle hands stroked her hair. “Go ahead.”
His sweetness undid her. She cried until her tear tank was empty, for hours, it seemed. Through it all he held her close, caressing her, murmuring words of support and endearment. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Jameson Cartwright capable of such deep tenderness.
It only made her fall harder.
She clung to him until her sobs quieted, then forced herself to let go, to sit up, then stand. On her own two feet. To stop being a wet blanket weighing him down.
“Jameson.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. “I’m so sorry I lost it like that.”
“Why?” He got up, too, took her hands, then slid his up her arms to cup the back of her neck.
“Well, I mean.” She gestured stupidly at the chaise. “We were just... I mean, it’s not like we were... It was supposed to be just fun. And playful. Like we are.”
“It didn’t turn out that way.” He started massaging the tight muscles under his fingers.
“No.”
“So?” He gave her that lazy smile. “That means there’s more between us than fun. Nothing wrong with that.”
“But... No, there isn’t.” She blurted out the words, then didn’t blame him for smirking at her. “Okay, maybe.”
He bent and kissed her. “I’ve got two bits of news for you.”
“What?”
“One, there is something powerful between us and has been for a whole lot of years. So it makes perfect sense that making love would jar some emotion loose. Because it did in me, too.”
“Only you didn’t bawl all over me for an hour.”
“I didn’t lose my parents and have to take care of myself all alone for the past two years.”
She scowled at him, but not with any real anger. Just because he was undoubtedly right. “What’s the second thing?”
Jameson took her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. Her heart started a slow and steady thump. What was he going to say? Something deep. Something romantic and so wonderful she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
He jerked his head over her left shoulder. “When you threw them, your bra and panties landed in the pool.”