Here Comes Trouble (22 page)

He didn’t ask his bedroom or hers…but took her up the backstairs to his bed. For which she was privately grateful. Not only because it took her farther away from the phone and her office, but she kind of liked being in his space, in his bed. So to speak.

He followed her down onto the bed, onto her, and she reveled in his weight on top of her. There was that thrill of all their body parts lining up so deliciously right, but even more, there was just a sense of…reassurance? Comfort? It was more complicated than that, but also as simple as that. She’d missed him, too. But rather than say it, she tugged his head down to hers and showed him.

He had his hands buried in her hair a moment later, returning her kiss with every bit the same intensity and enthusiasm. Oh, the wonders of being wanted like he wanted her. She didn’t think she’d ever get to a point where his attention didn’t move her like that. So focused…and so fun.

He was smiling as he lifted his head, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What?” she queried when he simply continued to stare into her eyes.

“I used to think I was one very lucky son of a bitch. And I was. For a very long time.”

“I think that’s great. That kind of success has to feel incredibly rewarding.”

“It does. Or did. But you know what?”

She shook her head but found herself too busy tracing the laugh lines creasing the corners of his mouth with her fingertip to respond verbally. It was far too easy to get caught up in him. And she was so very, very caught.

He traced his own fingertips down the side of her face, and his expression took on a whole new light she’d never seen before. Her fingers paused as she got caught up in looking back.

“What?” she finally said, the word barely more than a whisper.

“My ridiculous good luck is holding,” he said, caressing her bottom lip with one fingertip, then replacing it with his own lips. Only this time the kiss was slower, softer, deeper. Almost…reverent. He took his time, claiming her in a way…well, that felt like it was all about being claimed.

“Brett,” she said as his lips left hers, slowly, so they continued to touch, even as their breaths comingled.

“I am the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet,” he said, sounding almost a little stunned. Then he took her mouth again, only this time there was heat, and passion, and absolute intent.

And if she’d felt soulfully claimed a moment ago…she was feeling absolutely primally claimed now. She didn’t know what it meant, or what he was thinking. Did he mean the great sex? It was pretty damn incredible. Or was there some deeper meaning. It felt a lot…deeper.

But that was as analytical as her poor, hormone-besieged brain could be. The rest of her was far too intent on doing some claiming of its own to be worrying about things like motivation and meaning.

The only thing she was motivated to do in that moment was to get them both out of their clothes and get him as deep inside of her as possible. He was like some kind of narcotic. Every time she got a little, she wanted more. And it took more to get her that fix she needed, craved. He was insatiable with her, which was heady, heady stuff…and she was equally voracious in return.

Clothes were peeled off, pillows shoved aside as he pushed her farther across the bed and moved between her legs. There was no talking, no laughter. This was hot, hard, so fierce she thought she might pass out from the intensity of it. And then he was burying himself hard inside of her and her guttural growl of satisfaction vibrated against the slick skin on the side of his neck, where she was nibbling, biting, licking.

He pinned her hands down beside her head and moved faster. She dug the heels of her feet into the backs of his thighs, urging him on, rising to meet him, reveling in the hoarse groans coming from somewhere deep inside his chest, matching him grunt for grunt with her own half wild growls.

Their bodies pistoned, her hips thrusting up, his pinning her back down, until the sweat and internal combustion made their bodies so slick it was hard for her to keep any grip on him at all. He solved that by gripping her thighs and pushing her up the bed.

“Hold on,” he commanded, jerking his chin at her hands, now clutching at the sheets beside her head.

She reached blindly up until she found the headboard and grabbed on to the heavy rolled edge now above her head.

He held on to her thighs and lifted her higher, farther onto him, as he continued to take her. And she continued to take him in.

They were both half grunting, half shouting, as she felt him gather inside her, building…which took her screaming right over the edge. He was swearing, loud and long, as he climaxed right as the shock waves were still spasmodically jerking her body beneath his.

The force of it was so strong, so intense, they continued pumping even as they both shook with exhaustion, until finally he braced his weight over her on his elbows, sweat dripping from his brow onto the base of her throat, as he slid from her, emitting another deep groan of satisfaction as he did, making her quiver involuntarily…then sliding down her body so he could press a reverent kiss directly over her heart.

She managed to pry her grip from the headboard and buried her fingers into his thick hair as he sprawled across the bed, his cheek pressed against her stomach, one arm splayed across her hips. He slid his free hand up to cup the side of her face, cradling her in his wide palm, as he stroked along her cheekbone with his thumb.

She had never been so utterly and completely spent in her life. There was no actual thought, and a complete inability to form words. So she just laid there, sated in a way that went so far past the physical, she was grateful that her brain was too saturated to figure out the true deeper meaning of it all.

So she simply enjoyed the weight of him, half draped across her body, feeling his heartbeat against her thigh as her own finally began to slow to some semblance of a normal pulse pattern. As she toyed with his hair, he continued to softly stroke the side of her face. She felt incredibly well loved…and, again, it reached past the physical. She closed her eyes and floated, purposely letting go of all thought.

Because if she’d dwelled, for even a second longer, on how well loved she felt in that moment, on the richness and depth of emotion that he brought to her heart and soul, in a way she’d never even knew existed, much less ever experienced, then that burning sensation would build and well up behind her eyes again, and that deep, unending ache would bloom inside her heart. And it was too fine a moment to spoil with even a tinge of pain or sadness.

Because Kirby was one lucky son of a bitch, too. And, for right that moment, that was damn well going to be enough.

But, like all moments, fine or otherwise, this one had to come to an end. She felt Brett sigh even as she heard the sound of it, and his touch paused along the edge of her cheekbone.

“Kirby,” he said, and the sound of her name, said in a voice so raw and raspy from the force of his lovemaking mere moments ago, threatened to bring those tears on anyway. Only now she couldn’t tell if they’d be of joy, or anguish…or some pathetic mix of both. She just knew she’d give a lot to hear him say her name, just like that, again. And again.

“I—” She broke off, finding her voice raw, but her throat even tighter against those unshed tears. God, he was going to think her a basket case, unable to keep her act together whenever they had sex in a damn bed. She eased out from under him, knowing she was running away, but feeling retreat was, in this case, the better part of valor. Or at the very least, in retaining her some shred of her dignity. “I need to…” She didn’t finish, but hoped he’d fill in the blank as she slipped from the bed and ducked into the adjoining bathroom.

She clicked the door shut softly behind her, praying he was spent enough that his awesome powers of perception didn’t see past her surface excuse and cause him to follow her.

She went straight to the pedestal sink and ran cool water, sliding her hands under the steady stream and splashing the water lightly onto her face, then doing it again, hoping to quell the threat. When she finally felt like she was getting some semblance of a grip, she slowly lifted her face to the mirror. Her eyes were clear, not even a hint of pink. Good, she thought, and turned off the water as she grabbed a fluffy washcloth to pat her stubble-abraded cheeks dry.

Now, she thought as she straightened, if I could only cool off my heart with a good cold splash.

She took a steadying breath and turned away from the mirror, leaning back against the sink as she drew another breath, then another. She’d go back in there, crawl back into bed with a smile on her face, say something light, something funny, make him smile…and shift the tone back to one of teasing and playful banter. And away from…whatever the hell had just happened between them. Which was anything but light or playful.

She wondered what he was thinking out there. What had he been feeling while he was taking her like that? What had it meant?

She ducked her chin as a small, wry smile twisted her lips. He was probably just horny after not getting any regular time together with her, and right this very second, he was out there sound asleep with a stupid grin on his impossibly handsome face. And here she was thinking silly, pathetic romance and roses thoughts.

But then she sighed and tipped her head back, and her smile grew into a grin that couldn’t be contained or twisted into something else. Maybe she didn’t know for sure what had been going through his mind during the last half hour, but that didn’t change what had felt like a life-altering moment for her. Even if, for him, it had just been stupendous sex, for her it had been once-in-a-lifetime special. She’d never been made to feel like that, not ever. And she refused to feel foolish for wanting to cherish the moment, savor the memory of it. Even if it was destined to never be repeated, she had that one time. And, oh my word, was it ever going to be memorable.

Pushing away from the sink she stood, rolled her shoulders, and turned and finger-raked her hopelessly snarled hair as she stared defiantly at her reflection. “Living in the moment. That’s what I’m all about.” She gave up on the hair, thinking maybe she could con Brett into going down and starting dinner while she ducked into her own room and did a better job of making herself look like she hadn’t just been thoroughly ravished before his friend arrived. Her defiant expression dissolved into another helpless grin. “Except you were just thoroughly ravished. And you loved it.”

She turned away from the mirror and opened the bathroom door, bracing herself for whatever was going to come at her next, only to find Brett sitting on the side of the bed, his back to her, with his cell phone propped against his ear.

“Right, no. That’s fine, just…are you sure you’re okay?”

Kirby leaned in the doorway, not wanting to intrude, but other than ducking back into the bathroom, having nowhere else to go at the moment. So she hung back and let him finish.

“Tomorrow then? Okay, I’ll be over in the morning anyway for a meeting, we’ll—okay. Right. Night.” He clicked off his phone, stared at it for a moment, and shook his head and tossed it on the nightstand.

“Everything okay?”

He looked over his shoulder, his expression more bemused than anything. “Actually, I was just about to come in there and find that out for myself when my phone rang. That was Dan. He begged off dinner, claimed jet lag. He figured he’d enjoy room service and then crash. I invited him over for tomorrow, but whatever works with your schedule is fine with me. I was thinking maybe a late lunch after I get done with what I hope is the last coordination meeting in the morning. It’s only supposed to last an hour or so, but they get to talking and you know how it is.”

She just stood there, taking him in, in all of his ridiculously casual glory, and marveled all over again that this was—that he was—somehow part of her day-to-day world. She had no idea what stupid expression was on her face, but he gradually trailed off as he realized she was not participating in the conversation but just staring at him. Standing naked in the bathroom doorway, arms folded, just…looking her fill. What would her life be like if this really was an everyday part of her normal routine?

She watched him get up and walk toward her, equally unconcerned about his magnificent nakedness, a hint of that mischievous twinkle glinting in his eyes, an amused curve to his lips…and thought there was no such thing as a life that was this perfect. No one was that much of a lucky son of a bitch.

“I have no idea what that cat-and-canary smile is on your face for,” he said, his voice still all deliciously gravelly, “but if it’s because you’re thinking anything like what I’m thinking, I say last one to the hot, pulsing shower spa is a rotten egg.”

Then he made her squeal by darting forward and tugging her from her resting spot, snagging her around the waist and carting her into the bathroom and straight into the shower before setting her down again.

“What if I don’t want to—”

“Duck or get sprayed.” He flipped on the water levers and the three big shower heads all burst into life at the same time, just as she dove behind his back to keep from getting hit full force in the face. And to think the drenching shower spas had been her idea.

Although as the water turned hotter and the steam started to rise, she had to admit it had been a pretty damn good one.

“Mmm,” was as articulate as she could get as the pulsing spray thrummed along her back and shoulders.

Brett turned and pulled her into his arms so they were both positioned in a way to get the maximum effect from the opposite end shower heads. “Agreed,” he said, and tipped up her chin to kiss her. “Did I mention that I miss you?”

She smiled against his wet mouth as water beat down on her head and ran down her cheeks. She was certain she had nothing on a drowned rat at the moment, but since he didn’t seem to care, neither did she. “I think you made that pretty clear a few moments ago,” she said. “Almost tempting to go a few more days apart just to see what that reunion would be like, but I’m not sure I could survive the bliss.”