Four Nights to Forever (9 page)

C
assie’s knees nearly gave way, and she had to take a deep breath so she wouldn’t sink down to the bottom of the tub and wallow in the aftershocks of her pleasure, stretching and purring like a cat. Though, she supposed, cats usually didn’t like water. Ridiculous thoughts flitted through her head. The loose feeling of her hips, the tingles between her thighs . . . Yes, she could lay on a bed and simply think about the desire she’d felt in his hands as he’d kissed her and she’d probably come again.

She bent her arms to give herself a little leverage and pushed against the wall. Doug had stepped back but not so far that she didn’t run into him as she stood up straight. “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t ever apologize for being close to me.” His breath tickled her ear. Strong hands grasped hold of her hips, and he backed her fully under the spray of the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then get started on dinner?”

“Dinner won’t take a minute.” Hell, she had it all prepped.

“I’ve got all night.”

A washcloth slid across her back, and she started to turn to help. He kept one hand clasped on to her, gripping harder when she moved. “Let me,” he said. “Seeing my cock against your skin was incredibly hot. The least I can do is wash your back.” A finger ran up and down the backs of her legs and over her butt before dipping between her legs and teasing the sensitive skin. “And I plan to do more.” As if she needed more evidence, the washcloth ran over her breasts, the terry cloth rough on her nipples, which hardened in pleasure.

Feeling like some other, braver woman and loving it, Cassie replied, “I intend to hold you to that promise.”

Doug’s grip on her loosened, and she spun around in his arms so that they were chest to chest. Then she took the washcloth and stepped back for his turn. He was a glorious piece of man. Built, but with the lean muscles that came from daily activity rather than weight lifting. Sometime tonight she was going to come with him above her, his arm muscles straining to keep him balanced and the tendons of his neck visible. The very thought of it sent tingles shooting through her body.

When she wiped the cloth down his hard stomach, his mouth opened and his breathing slowed. His erection had softened but stirred at her touch. They both noticed. A smooth, hot smile spread across his face, full of promises.

Good.
The plans evident in his face would go well with dessert.

“Turn around and let me get your back,” she said, pushing a little at his shoulder.

His hair had flattened about his head, making his smile seem bigger and wider. Water splashed over his head and down his face as he spun around under the spray, landing with warm spurts on her skin. She smoothed the washcloth over his back and down the mound of muscle at his butt.

“You,” she said with a light smack, “have a very fine ass.”

“Skier’s butt,” he said with a wink over his shoulder. He was a content, joyful person who she could be content and joyful around. She liked it. A lot.

“Well, you’ve got a spot on your skier’s butt.” She slipped her hand over his waist, gripping tight to the ridge of his hips. With the washcloth balled up in her other hand, she scrubbed at an imaginary spot on his butt.

“Yeah?” His back arched with pleasure. “Well, I should check you over to make sure I didn’t miss any spots on you.”

“Me first,” she insisted, slipping the washcloth around the curve of his ass and down between his legs. Air whistled through his teeth and the muscles of his back tensed. “I like responses like that.”

“Is that so?” Quick as a wink, he had turned around and the washcloth was in his hand and between her legs. She rested her forehead against him, relying on him to hold her up as her muscles turned to jelly.

“What about the spot here?” He asked with a smile in his voice, his arm snaking around her as he pulled her close and passed the washcloth over her backside. “I’m sure there’s something here that needs to be cleaned.”

Cassie pushed against him, wiggling under the pleasure of his hands. Then her stomach growled and she pushed back, clasping a hand against her belly. The intrusive sound echoed off all the hard surfaces in the bathroom.

Doug laughed. “I guess that means it’s time to eat.”

Part of Cassie expected to feel a little awkward once out of the cocoon of the shower, but Doug’s smile and self-assurance kept any sense of
Holy shit, what have I done?!
at bay—though the
Holy shit, look
who
I’ve done!
was fierce.

When they were dressed and out in the kitchen, they each picked up their wineglasses and Cassie took her place at the stove.

“So what’s for dinner?” he asked. He was standing close enough for her to feel his presence, but not so close that he restricted her movement. Hell, after that shower, she would probably be able to feel his presence if he were on the other side of the Wasatch Front. “And how can I help?”

“Pasta Arrabiata for dinner—pasta with garlic, tomatoes, and chili—plus a salad. If you could put on a pot of water for the penne, that would be great.”

“Sounds good.” He dug around in the cabinets for a pot, and his voice carried over the sound of water pouring out of the spout as he filled the one he found. Strong. Like his grip had felt as he’d made her come with his fingers.

She turned her attention back to the oil that was warming in the pan before he could see her flush. Or before she abandoned caution—and dinner—for a roll in the hay. God, one solid orgasm by a man who knew his way around a clitoris and she was plotting her life five orgasms into the future. This must have been what Karen meant when she’d advised Cassie to think about herself for a change.

Movement out of the corner of her eye jolted her from her lustful and self-congratulatory thoughts. Doug put the pot on the stove, turned on the heat, and then put the lid on the pot with a flourish. “Done.” He nodded his head to the pan where she had added crushed cloves of garlic and a couple of whole chilies. “And it looks fancy.”

“It only looks fancy. It’s actually pretty easy. But it does taste good.” Cassie had decided to make the pasta dish simply because she and Karen had planned to make it, but now it fit her mood. Red, spicy, and rich. Lusty, even. Add it with the full-bodied red wine that coated her throat, and it was a perfect pre-sex meal. Or post-sex meal.

“Your face is turning the color of those tomatoes. Is there something special about this dish I should know?”

Determined not to brush off her desires, she took another sip of garnet courage in a glass. “Should know?” She shrugged. “I can’t believe you’re here, in my condo. I can’t believe I asked you and I can’t believe you came.” The wine from another sip slid down her throat. “And that I came . . . And am going to come again.” A couple more sips of wine were all it took for her to giggle at her words.

Doug raised an eyebrow at her. “So we’re not playing gin rummy after dinner?” he asked, all playful innocence. “Do I need to keep a careful eye on my virtue?”

She laughed as she set her glass on the countertop. “Virtue is banned from this condo for the night. Maybe for the rest of the week.”

His smile was slow, confident, and easy. “I can get behind that.” Then his expression sobered, and she picked up her wineglass and took a quick sip before he could ask his serious question. “Why me? Why now?”

Honesty bubbled up like the sauce when she gave it a hard stir. She didn’t pretend not to understand what he was asking. “Maybe something to prove to myself. You heard what Karen said yesterday. If I had gone back to Massachusetts, I’d have driven to my daughter’s college apartment, bought her and her roommate groceries, and cooked them food. Except they’re not even there. It’s spring break and Samantha is with her dad. And I’m here, trying not to call her every day. So I don’t know what I’d have done back in Framingham. But I’m not taking care of someone else. I’m taking care of me. And it’s probably unfair to you, but you’re proof that I can take care of me.”

She didn’t mention her birthday; she didn’t really want him to know. Sometime between the time he’d walked through the condo door and when he’d gotten in the shower with her, selfishness had started feeling less like taking and more like giving. She wanted to give pleasure as much as she wanted to take it.

His certain smile was back, softened by the understanding in his eyes. “But you’re cooking me dinner.”

“Oh, I’m doing that for me, too.” She laughed, and after a moment, he laughed with her. She turned off the heat on the sauce. By unspoken agreement, they ate dinner without their conversation touching on anything more personal than what she’d just confessed.

*

Cassie may only be taking care of herself, Doug thought as he sank into the cushions on the couch, but she was excellent at taking care of other people along the way.

“Dinner was delicious.” He wasn’t flattering her because he was in her condo and hoping to be here for the action when the comforter on the bed got folded down. The sauce had coated his tongue with a rich, spicy tang, and the pasta had been cooked to perfection. An experience to linger over, much like Cassie herself. She’d even provided dessert, a tart lemon ice that had made him suck in his cheeks, much to her amusement.

“Thank you,” she said. She settled on the couch next to him, and he shifted his glass to his other hand so he could put his arm around her. She responded by tucking herself closer to him, smelling of dinner with a hint of her soap underneath. To him, the combination would always bring sex and conversation to mind. He wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of the dishwasher running and the hiss of a gas fireplace without thinking of Cassie. “I like cooking for people.”

“People being yourself.”

“Yes.” Her smile brightened her voice. “People being myself.”

He released her long enough to lean forward and put his wineglass on the coffee table. When she had finished taking another sip, he put hers on the table, as well. She pursed her lips at him but didn’t say anything, seeming content to settle herself back in his embrace. She rested her head against the crook of his arm, like she belonged there and had always belonged there.

“Tell me what else you do to please yourself.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if I’m going to be used in your quest to become a more selfish person—and I’m much more eager to be used than I would have expected—I want to know how you intend to use me. What do you have in store for me tonight?” To emphasize his point, Doug stuck his hand down the front of her shirt, stretching the neckline of her T-shirt, and popping her nipple free of her bra. He rolled the peak of her nipple between his fingers, his attention riveted on the way her hips rose up in anticipation.

“Let’s start with me making this easier,” she said, pulling his hand out from her shirt. Before he could miss the softness of her breast, she had her shirt off and was straddling him. Her basic white bra couldn’t contain her mounds of flesh. Her nipples were hard, poking through the cotton. He could press his face between her breasts, lose himself in the warmth and smell of this woman.

Instead, he repeated what he’d done in the shower, taking her face between his hands and leaning in for a kiss. Cassie was a soft woman, made for loving and for long, slow kisses. She shifted a little farther forward, the distance between them like the distance between snowflakes as they settled on the ponderosa pines. Her movement created friction in his jeans, a rubbing that felt good for right now, but much more of it and his pants would need to come off. He put his hands on her hips to stall her . . . and himself. He had all night. If he was lucky, he also had the rest of the week.

Cassie either didn’t get the hint or didn’t care because she continued to buck her hips on his lap. Given the soft moans easing out of her lips when she hit the perfect spot, Doug was betting on the latter.

He pulled back to drop light powdery kisses along her jawbone and up to her ear. “I’ll keep kissing you all night if you want, but there are also condoms in my bag by the front door.”

Her breath was coming out long, slow, and heavy, a rhythm he could keep as he entered and pulled out of her, building tension until they both exploded. After a moment, she asked, “Which pocket?”

“I’ll get them.”

“No, you take off your pants and sit right there.” An insistent hand pushed against his shoulder. “What I have in mind for the rest of the night—at least the rest of the night that I’ve planned out so far—involves you sitting there naked, erect, and ready for me.” Apparently Selfish Cassie was also Bossy Cassie, and Doug was more than happy to be bossed around by her.

“Right now I’m two out of three, so I’m doing good.”

She slid off his lap, the confidence he’d seen in her skiing after lunch shining through in her slow, luscious smile, blinding him. Then she backed away, careful to avoid the coffee table. As soon as she was out of the reach, her confident smile turned wicked and she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. Her breasts bounced free of their constraints, and Doug had to grip the edge of the couch to keep from reaching out for her. She must have known it, too, because the tease stopped halfway across the condo, looked over her shoulder at him, then eased her jeans over her ass. Like a randy teenager, Doug hopped up and shucked his jeans and boxers. He was too distracted to be careful, wasting several precious seconds caught in his T-shirt when he could have been staring at Cassie’s luscious curves.