All Grown Up (9 page)

“You’re bored?”

“Not in the least.”

“I strike you as some kind of challenge?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” she said, twisting away to stand in front of the fire. “Maybe you have some deep-seated need to prove you’re irresistible.”

“I’ve been rejected on occasion, Annalise. Trust me.”

There it was. That tricky word.
Trust
. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“You promised me this weekend. Until the snow melts. I propose we call a truce. Enjoy tonight and tomorrow. And then Monday morning you can decide if you want me to leave. Without you.”

“Of course I do. Why would you stay? You’d only get in my way.”

He stalked her, backing her toward the corner where the hearth met the alcove. With a flick of his wrist, he reached for the light switch and plunged the room into semidarkness, illumined only by the fire and the single candle. “A truce means you have to pretend you like me.”

Her butt smacked into the wall. “I’m not that good an actress.”

He grinned, his teeth flashing like a rogue pirate. “You’re a spoiled brat, Princess.”

“You’re a bossy, high-handed pig.”

“Kiss me.”

The rough command took the starch out of her knees. Her hands flattened on the surface behind her. “I won’t.”

His arms bracketed her shoulders as his head lowered. “Liar, liar…”

What happened next was like every romantic chick flick she’d ever seen all rolled into one. She was pretty sure an orchestra played somewhere in the background. And Sam’s warm, firm lips put any one of a number of leading men to shame as he moved in, surrounded her and took what he wanted.
Oh, Lordy.

Somehow her arms ended up around his neck, her breasts mashed up against a rock-hard chest. He tasted like sweet berries and cream. The roughness of his tongue tantalized as he intruded ever so gently between lips that trembled. She barely had time to catch her breath before he scooped her into his arms and pressed her against the wall. “You are so damned hot,” he said.

“I drive you insane.”

He bit the side of her neck. “But I like it.”

She giggled. She actually giggled. And that was when she knew she was in trouble. Because Annalise Wolff never giggled. “We already had sex once today.” As excuses went, it was pretty pitiful.

Sam snorted. “Then we’re way behind.”

He hefted her by the ass and skirted the table, knocking over a chair in his haste. She would have giggled again if she had been able to force air from her throat.

Something was strangling her, some desperate, aching realization that her life was never going to be the same after this weekend. “I’m not very good at it,” she blurted out, not wanting to pretend with him.

“At what?” He dumped her on the sofa and kneeled beside her to unzip her pants.

“Sex,” she moaned, feeling his fingers slip beneath the lacy edge of her panties.

Sam’s eyes blazed with hunger, his cheekbones slashed with dark color. “Could have fooled me. Shut up, Princess. Unless you want to say something sensible.”

He dragged off her pants, underwear and shoes in one reckless maneuver. Next her sweater, shirt and bra went flying. He opened his jeans and came down between her legs. The denim abraded her inner thighs as he found what he wanted.

“There’s no room,” she panted. The narrow sofa wasn’t made for sexual activity.

“I’ll make room.” His voice was rough with determination. “Damn, you’re wet,” he groaned as he tested her readiness with two fingers. The scrape of his fingernail on her delicate flesh sent a keening cry echoing toward the ceiling. But when Sam entered her fully and pushed his way home, the simultaneous cessation of breathing, his and hers, lent magic to the connection.

Five seconds passed. Then ten. She lifted her hips, begging wordlessly. Sam kissed her gently, his mouth firm and sweet. “What is it you do to me?”

Annalise wrapped her legs around his waist. He filled her deliciously. “It’s all you,” she said, eyes closed with bliss. “I’ll hate myself later for saying this, but damn, you’re good.”

“No cussing, remember?”

He moved his hips, driving deeper. Pinball flashes of pleasure coalesced and ignited at the point where their bodies joined. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, voice hoarse, lungs barely able to function.

“Annalise…” His gruff shout sent her over the edge as he hit his own wall, his release coming in a rapid, forceful finish that left her weak and clinging to him like he was the only steady rock in a swirling current.

As their breathing slowed, she became aware of the fact that Sam was heavy, really heavy. And his shirt buttons were making permanent tattoos on her breasts. “Air,” she muttered. “I need air.”

“Sorry.” With patent reluctance, Sam lifted his body off hers and stumbled to his feet.

Suddenly, her nudity in the face of his fully clothed state made her blush. “Will you hand me my shirt and pants, please?”

“No.” Again that single, macho negative. Any moment now, she should protest. Instead, she wrapped her arms across her breasts and curled on her side, hiding things he had already seen. “I need my clothes,” she said, scrupulously polite.

He threw a couple more logs on the fire and turned to face her. “We’re not finished.” He shrugged out of his shirt. “I’m just getting started.” The sight of his beautiful, masculine chest made her tremble, despite the fact that he had so recently satisfied her. Sam looked different in this light. Like a Viking plunderer…or a wild-eyed barbarian.

It occurred to her that she should show at least a modicum of spunk. Instead of letting him run the show. “What if I object?” Fat chance.

He shrugged, muscles rippling in his arms and torso. “You won’t. I promise. Come here, baby.”

Nine

S
am had barely touched his wine, yet his head was spinning. The incredible climax he’d experienced moments ago was already fading into the distance, obscured by an urgent need to take her again.

He was not himself. It wasn’t false modesty to say he was good at satisfying women sexually. He’d received numerous breathless accolades over the years. But holy hell, the nuclear explosion that triggered when he and Annalise connected was incredible.

At the moment, she was soft, satiated, approachable. It was rapidly becoming apparent to him that the only time he could truly reach her, without the barrier of acerbity she used as a shield, was during sex. When she forgot that she was mad at him…when she forgot that she held a long-standing grudge.

Post-orgasmic amnesia. That’s what he should call it. Maybe he had discovered something never before known to science. In another twenty minutes she’d be scowling at him. So the secret was—keep her naked and underneath him. Or on top, or…

As he shed his pants, shoes and socks, his sex reared to attention in increments. Annalise’s eyes widened when she took note. He grinned, holding out his hand. “I said, come here.”

She stood up, naked and lovely and so very tempting. He knew in his gut that she was right about the two of them. A relationship doomed from the start could only end in messy collateral damage. They weren’t living in a vacuum. Their families had been friends for three decades. Whether they liked it or not, their worlds were intertwined.

Which meant that a train wreck on the road to intimacy would affect more than just the two of them.

For a brief moment, he entertained the idea of permanence. He was tired of playing the field. Annalise was smart and beautiful and entertaining both in and out of bed. But she didn’t want children. And sadly, that was a deal-breaker for him. Besides, he needed a wife someday who would look at him with adoration, one who believed in romance. Not a termagant who made him want to hide the kitchen knives.

She reached down and took him in her hand, squeezing gently. “I thought you were an old man. It seems I was wrong.”

His skin tightened in gooseflesh all over his body. At the moment, babies were the last things on his mind. He closed his eyes, hands fisted at his hips as she caressed the hot length of him. Her fingers curled carefully around his balls, playing with them, testing their weight.

He tried to speak, swallowed hard and tried again. “I have an idea.” It had been on his mind ever since that morning when she sat on the edge of the bed, back turned toward him, and he saw the way her slim shoulders and narrow waist flared into a heart-shaped bottom. “Give me a sec.”

She frowned when he escaped her light hold. “I’m getting cold.”

“Not for long.” Grabbing one of the quilts they had used during the night, he folded it carefully and laid it over the wooden arm of the sofa. He snagged her wrist. “That last time was too fast. I want to try slow and easy.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t do kinky.”

He shrugged, trying to suppress a grin…and failing. “How do you know?”

Her teeth worried her bottom lip. But her raspberry nipples puckered into hard nubs. He brushed them with his thumbs. Annalise shut her eyes, almost as if she couldn’t bear to watch.

“I’ll repeat the question, darlin’, how do you know?”

She swayed toward him, her body lissome and compliant. “I just know. Why did you give me so much wine?” she complained, her arms curling around his neck. “I can’t think straight.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, disentangling himself and holding her at arm’s length. “I’m not going to let you blame this craziness on alcohol-induced bad judgment. We’re going into this eyes wide open. It’s a choice, Annalise. Tell me you want me.”

She licked her lips. He was damn sure she had no idea how erotically beautiful she looked. Or how confused. It was the uncertainty in her gaze that slowed him down. “Or tell me you don’t want me,” he amended, releasing her abruptly and stepping back. “But I won’t be accused of taking advantage of you. If you really want to stop, we’ll pretend like none of this ever happened.”

She shivered hard, as if a ghost had brushed her shoulder. “I
want
you,” she said, the words little more than a whisper. “But I know I shouldn’t.”

He flinched inwardly. He didn’t want to be any woman’s guilty pleasure, much less Annalise’s. “Well, that’s honest, at least.”

“I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to.”

“I suppose you thought I didn’t have any.”

She frowned. “Nothing ever seems to bother you.”

“You’d be surprised.” The ache in his chest was a mixture of arousal and disappointment and a soupçon of Annalise’s confusion. God knows, this wasn’t what he’d imagined when he drove out to the farm for the weekend. If anything he been dreading a couple of days of armed hostilities as he carried out his grandmother’s request to help Annalise settle in.

“Why do you want to have sex with me?”

He rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands. “Why do women need to have everything analyzed in advance? I just do.” He paused, his turn to frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen the women you date. None of them have much in common with me.”

“I can’t believe two naked people are standing here having this inane discussion. Only you, Annalise. Suffice it to say that you turn me on. End of story.”

“You’re getting angry.”

“No. I’m getting frustrated. There’s a difference. I’ll ask you one last time. Do you want me?”

The length of the pause in the conversation was long enough to accommodate an entire symphony…or so it seemed. But at last, she moved, she nodded. A smile would have made him feel better, but at this moment, he wasn’t inclined to be picky. “Is that a yes?”

She held out her hand. “It is. I’ll never accuse you of anything, Sam. You’re an honorable guy. I know that.”

Her praise irritated him. “I’m no better or worse than any other man. But I will do my best not to hurt you again. Once in a lifetime was enough.”

She managed a small, hesitant smile. “That seems fair.”

Feeling his heart thudding against his ribs, he took the hand she offered and drew her into his embrace. “Your skin is like ice,” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “Come toward the fire for a minute.” He faced her toward the flames and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her beneath her breasts. His erection nestled in the cleft of her bottom. Fine tremors in his limbs reminded him that a baser part of him wanted more than this. But he ignored the insistent pulse of arousal and buried his face in her hair.

She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers linking with his. “You play dirty,” she said, drowsiness in her posture and her voice.

“How so?”

“Romance. It’s filled the room. I’m tripping over it.” She chuckled. “Maybe it’s not so bad after all.”

“I’m glad you approve. Are you warmer?” he asked hopefully, about to lose the battle with the constraints he’d placed on his desperate need.

She turned suddenly, taken by surprise. “According to you, I’m hot.” Her hands settled on his shoulders and she reached up on tiptoe and gave him a sweet kiss that had a kick to it. “Let’s see how kinky you can be.”

He’d been hard for so long it was a miracle his brain functioned at all. “We’ll start small,” he promised, leading her back to the sofa.

With a smile that would have brought any man to his knees, she brushed his shaft. “Wrong choice of words, Mr. Ely. Not small at all.”

Her laughter warmed him from the inside out. If nothing else, he would be grateful that this weekend had eased the pain from the past. He didn’t wanted to be at odds with Annalise Wolff. He wanted to be her friend, her very intimate friend.

Without asking for permission, he bent her over the fluffy quilt. The height of the sofa arm was perfect. And as he had suspected, her pert bottom was a sight to see, presented in this position.

“What do you want me to do with my hands?” Her voice was muffled by her hair.

He scooped the thick tresses over her right shoulder so he could see her face. “I’ll take care of that.” He pulled her arms behind her back and held her wrists. With his other hand, he widened the stance of her legs and reached between her thighs to stroke gently.

Annalise gave a soft exclamation that could have meant any number of things. Her eyes were closed, her face turned toward the fire. He separated the plump folds of her sex and felt the slick moisture that readied her body for his.

It shocked him to realize that his hands were shaking. Badly. Was it arousal or the fear of messing this up? He wanted to show her how sexy she was, how desirable, how perfectly feminine in every way. If later, she chose to take the lead, he had no problem with that. In fact, the thought of Annalise Wolff dominating him in the bedroom had a certain skin-tightening charm.

But he sensed that at the moment she wanted to capitulate, to submit, to revel in the freedom of her sex. To experience the power of driving a man to the point of insanity.

In truth, Sam was almost there.

He fit the head of his shaft to her passage and teased her with it. She squirmed. Her face was flushed. At least the part he could see. Wondering if she would consent to play with him, he decided to test the waters. “I’m going to release your wrists,” he said gruffly. “I want you to stretch your arms over your head, link your hands, and rest them on the sofa. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The low, slurred tenor of her reply tapped in him a primal response.

“Then do it.” When he let go of her wrists, she obeyed his command.

The vision of Annalise stretched out in front of him like an offering seared his brain…so vivid, he could see it even when he closed his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. With both of his hands now free, he caressed her butt. Her ass was pale as the moon, curvaceous, perfectly proportioned to her healthy body.

A small mole, high on her right hip, fascinated him. When he bent and kissed the tiny beauty mark, Annalise sighed deeply. Once again, he positioned himself for entry. “You were beautiful as a teenager,” he whispered, fearful of bringing up the past, though beyond dissimulation. “But now you take my breath away. I want you. I’m going to have you. Again and again until you beg me to stop. You’ve bewitched me, seduced me, destroyed me.”

Slowly, he pushed into her, painfully stimulated by the angle of penetration and the caveman position. He wasn’t even sure if this was for him or for her. The fit was tight, her body squeezing his until his skin dampened and his eyes stung with the sheer pleasure of it.

“Talk to me,” he begged. “Tell me what you want.”

She glanced over her shoulder, a sultry, sirenlike gaze. “Whatever you have to give me, Sam. I want it all.”

He drove into her again and again. First slow, then fast, then slow again. His fingers splayed on her ass, plumping, caressing. “I wish you could see yourself right now. God, you’re amazing.”

She arched her back, and reared up on her elbows, forehead resting on her clenched hands. “More. Don’t stop.”

He reached beneath her and caressed the spot where her pleasure centered. Annalise jerked and moaned. Timing the stroke of his finger to the slide of his shaft, he took them both to the edge and hovered there. “Do you want to come?”

She said a word that once again destroyed her resolution.

Sam chuckled, but it was a breathless, weak sound. The air in his lungs had evaporated. Suddenly, his control snapped, and with a groan, he pushed all the way to the core of her and pumped recklessly as he gripped her hips and emptied himself into the warm welcome of his unlikely lover.

* * *

Hours later, he rolled over and glanced at the clock. Annalise was in
his
bed this time, in the room that was his whenever his visited his grandparents. The comfortable king mattress accommodated his lanky frame. He held her close, relishing the sweet, trusting way she rested in his embrace.

They had made love for hours, finally abandoning the living room and coming upstairs to collapse into bed. Sighing deeply with repletion and contentment, he succumbed once again to the warm embrace of much-needed sleep.

When he opened his eyes the second time, Annalise was gone. The stone of disappointment that crushed his chest was enormous. Yesterday morning, he had understood her need to flee. But last night he thought they had forged a tenuous understanding, a fledgling truce.

His mouth was fuzzy and his head ached. Reluctantly, he dialed back his expectations for the remainder of the weekend. Annalise was not like other women. And there was absolutely no way to predict her reactions from one minute to the next.

Perhaps all she wanted from him was sex. For any other guy at any other moment, that would have been a pretty sweet deal. But Sam and Annalise had a past, a connection, an undeniable chemistry. The potential was there to create something wonderful.

He was beginning, however, to have a sinking suspicion that she was determined never to let that happen. Was it because he had rejected her once upon a time? Or did she simply not want anything more from him than one naughty weekend?

* * *

Annalise hummed as she worked, her body aching pleasantly, and her cheeks heating as she relived each moment of the incredible night before. Sam Ely was a genius. Even with her limited experience, it was evident that he had devoted a lot of time to learning about women.

Perhaps she should have been jealous. His sexual expertise was no doubt the product of many intimate liaisons. But oddly, she didn’t begrudge any of those women their momentary connections to Sam. He wasn’t
with
any of those women now. He had moved on.

Despite the painful experience in the past when she threw herself at him and suffered an ignominious rejection, she and Sam had known each other for a very long time. They had a relationship. It might not be the stuff of romantic fiction, but it was something. Even if this weekend turned out to be all she ever had of him in a sexual way, the tentative resurrection of their friendship would be enough.