Last Call (6 page)

He turned around and studied the liquor
bottles, then the glasses, and finally the beer cooler. “I have a
ton of experience with drinking, but none with mixing. Give me some
direction.” He turned back around to face her. “What’s your
favorite drink?”

Even though he probably considered this part
of the foreplay, she found the gesture incredibly sweet, and
emotion clogged her throat. She’d never had a nice, slow buildup.
All of her previous experience fell under basic, boring sex. One
minute of kissing. Two minutes of groping. Thirty seconds to shed
the clothes. Ten minutes of getting down to business.

He stared into her eyes, as if trying to see
inside her head. “You don’t strike me as a Cosmo girl.”

She laughed. “God, no.”

“Tequila? Jack?” He quirked an eyebrow and
grinned. “A girl after my own heart… Crown Royal?”

Intending to playfully push him away, she
pressed her palms against the hard wall of his chest and gave a
slight shove. He didn’t budge. But his heartbeat pounding against
her open hand and his body heat seeping into her palms caused the
playfulness to evaporate into a sharp, painful jolt of need.

Desperate to bring moisture to her sand-dry
mouth, she licked her lips and thought of butterscotch suckers.
Relaxing her elbows, she allowed her body to fall close into his.
In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “A lot of the younger
crowd, like your…” She let the sentence fall, unsure of how to
reference the women he’d been with earlier.

“The brunette was my boss’ daughter. The
other two are her friends. It’s a long story. I’ll spare you the
gory details.”

She breathed a sigh of relief at having that
piece to the puzzle and confirming he wasn’t involved with any of
them, and watched the pulse in his neck pound at a strong, steady
pace. “The drinks they chose are common. As well as things like
buttery nipples or a slow comfortable screw.” She swallowed hard.
“My personal favorite, though, is a french kiss.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and, fueled by
the fire she saw in his eyes, she flicked her tongue over her top
lip, then drug it along her lower. Knowing her action had been
strictly for his pleasure, his lids dropped to half-mast, and he
smiled appreciatively.

With agonizingly slow movements, he stepped
between her knees, took her face in his large palms, and dipped his
head. With his mouth inches from hers, he whispered, “You don’t
mean the kind in a glass, do you?”

She shook her head, then
closed her eyes and
felt
. Felt his warm breath against
her mouth, his rough palms against her face, and his solid thighs
against her softer ones. A viscous wave of need washed through her,
and she found it difficult to make her voice work. “I love kisses.
French and otherwise. In fact, I love kisses as much
sex.”

He drew back, as if horrified. “You’ve either
been with some outstanding kissers, or lousy lovers.” He leaned
back in. “Which is it?”

Since she could count her lovers on one hand,
not including the thumb, she couldn’t say for sure. But she refused
to admit that. Knowing she hadn’t had sex in three years was bad
enough. If he knew the full extent of her inexperience, he might
wonder what was wrong with her.

She ignored the question and concentrated on
his mouth, which was so close she could see the soft lines in his
lower lip. Yet, he might as well have been a block away for all the
good it did. Trying to close the scant distance between them, she
gripped his forearms and tugged. He didn’t move, and her
desperation twisted into a tight coil in her gut.

“Patience, Sunny.” His eyes were full of heat
and promise, his voice a husky murmur. “We’ll never have another
first kiss. Don’t rush it.”

Unable to form an intelligent thought, let
alone speak, Sunny stared into his eyes and willed him to move
faster. She held her breath and let her eyelids drift shut as he
eased closer and kissed the corner of her eye, then her temple,
then her ear.

His hand slipped to the back of her head and
held her in place as his lips made a slow excursion along her
jawline and ended at the corner of her mouth.

His tongue stroked the crease of her lips,
and she opened to him with a sigh. She could tell he was smiling,
taking pleasure in teasing her. He didn’t make her wait long,
though, before he treated her with full
mouth-to-oh-what-an-amazing-mouth contact.

Slow, rhythmic thrusts of his tongue kicked
her base instincts into gear, and she wiggled closer to the edge of
the counter, seeking a different kind of thrusting penetration. His
tongue swept across the roof her mouth in a gentle caress, then
slid over her teeth. He nipped at her lip, then worked the sting
away with a slow, slick glide.

Good grief, Gavin didn’t kiss. He made love
with his tongue and mouth. Within seconds, she was trembling and
rubber-legged and grateful to be sitting. Otherwise, she'd be a
glob of goo, sliding onto the floor. When he broke the kiss for a
breath, she said, “If you were trying to convince me kissing isn’t
as good as sex, you’re doing a poor job.”

The hand on the back of her
head slid to the nape of her neck, while the other trailed over her
shoulder and down her arm. He laced their fingers together and
pressed his palm to hers. Their energy fields, swirling and
combining in their touch, felt as intimate as the kiss. “What are
my chances for proving that was
nothing
compared to great
sex?”

She gulped, then went with the truth. “You’ve
never had a better chance.”

His eyelids dipped and he unleashed a slow,
seductive smile. A second later, he put his mouth back to work,
blazing a trail down the side of her neck toward her breast.

After three years of denying herself this
kind of pleasure, his tender caress broke the dam loose and a flood
of desire rushed through her. She scooted so close to the edge of
the counter, she was in danger of slipping off. But Gavin was
there, keeping her from falling. She wrapped her legs around the
backs of his thighs and pulled him flush against her.

With careless, trembling hands, she pushed
his shirt up and raked her fingers across the taut muscles of his
back. She was starving for his touch and desperate for more
contact.

His erection aligned perfectly with where she
wanted him, but rather than removing their clothing and satisfying
her greedy desire, he stretched the taut band of need tighter.

Whispering in her ear, he said, “We’re taking
this slowly. If I only have one time with you, I’m making every
second count.”

“We’ll go two times in one night. Shoot,
three or four times. Please don’t slow down. I need you. I need you
touching me, inside me, filling me.”

A strangled sound that was half-laugh,
half-growl escaped his throat. “You’re killing me.” He untied her
top from behind her neck and let the panels of fabric fall free in
the front.

Oh yeah, now we’re getting somewhere.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He slipped his
finger under the center of the chain and gave a gentle tug.

When she arched her back and cried out, he
froze. “You didn’t hurt me,” she panted. “I promise. God, that’s
good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

With a touch as gentle and reverent as the
one he’d used to stroke the copper magnolia leaf, he ran his finger
down the length of chain to her nipple. “You kinky, Sunny?” There
was no censure in his voice, only curiosity.

She shook her head and leaned forward, trying
to force more contact.

“No? Then why wear the chains?” His tone was
low and coaxing in her ear.

At times, she wondered if she had a kinky
streak and there was more to wearing the jewelry than making
herself feel sexy. But he didn’t need to know every freaking thing
about her sex life, or her fantasies, so she ignored the question
and kissed the side of his neck.

He shivered slightly, then nipped at her ear.
Flicking the clip that attached the chain to her nipple, he said,
“I’m waiting for an answer.”

A cry escaped and her head fell backward. “I
don’t know.” Her words were strangled as she arched toward him in a
desperate, pleading move. This time, he dipped his head and took
the clip and nipple into his mouth. Afraid she’d pass out of from
extreme pleasure, she pushed her fingers through his hair, grasped
the ends, and held on.

It didn’t take him long to figure out what
sent her flying and what registered so-so on the pleasure meter.
Sticking with the oh-my-God-that-feels-so-good moves, he quickly
had her suspended on the verge of an orgasm, panting and begging
for more. Until tonight, she never would have believed it possible
to be this out of control without penetration.

He kissed a path to her mouth, and said,
“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”

His arrogance turned her on, but at the same
time, left her feeling vulnerable, because she no longer had
control of her body. He did. Without waiting for an answer, he
captured her mouth with his, thrust his tongue, and yanked on the
center of the chain.

An electrical charge shot through her
breasts, down to her sex, and out to every nerve ending in between.
She arched her back and tightened her legs around his waist as the
orgasm hit with the speed and intensity of a lightning bolt.

As the haze faded, she became aware of his
pulsing length pressed against her. Not only did he need relief,
but she needed more. Now. She reached for his belt buckle and began
loosening the latch.

His body tensed and he grasped her hands,
holding them still. He froze, then his gaze shot to the door.

A breath later, she heard the doorknob
rattling and Robby’s voice. “Sunny. Are you in there?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

She hadn’t thought to tell Robby she’d be
late, and he’d probably gotten worried when she hadn’t come home at
her normal time. The lighting was dim, but he should still be able
to see in. Finding Gavin pressed against her like a second skin
wouldn’t relieve his anxiety.

She fumbled for the ties of her top, but her
fingers were shaking and she couldn’t grasp the fabric ties. Gavin
beat her to it, retying the ends loosely around her neck before
taking a step back.

She ran a hand over her hair, then rolled her
eyes upward as if she could see. “My hair’s a mess, isn’t it?”

His lips twitched, even as he bit the bottom
one to keep from laughing.

“Sweetheart, there is no way he’s going to
believe we were just talking.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom
lip. “Along with your messy hair, your lips are red and swollen and
you have whisker burn on your cheeks.” He smiled wickedly. “But we
both have our pants on; that’s gotta count for something.”

Prior to that mind-altering orgasm, she’d
have agreed. But not now. She glanced over her shoulder to the
door. Robby had his hands cupped around his face, his nose pressed
to the glass.

“It doesn’t look like he’s going away, does
it?”

Gavin rocked back on his heels, and shoved
his hands into his pockets. Laughing, he shook his head and said,
“Not anytime soon.”

With a groan, she jumped off the counter and
headed for the door.

***

Gavin watched Sunny pull and push at her
hairpins in a futile effort to fix her hair before she reached the
door. It would never go back into that sexy little knot without a
brush, mirror, and a whole lot of work. The way she had it piled on
top of her head earlier was sexy as hell, but damn if he didn’t
like this tumbled, just-out-of-bed look even more.

Instead of opening the door as he expected,
she put her hands on her hips and yelled, “What?”

Robby broke into a huge, shit-eating grin… or
maybe a grimace. It was difficult for Gavin to tell from this far
away. “Whatcha doin’?”

Gavin could imagine the flustered expression
on Sunny’s face, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep
from laughing out loud. His gaze slid past Sunny and Robby to the
dark Anticue fishing pier, and he instantly sobered. The place held
a lot of fond memories for him, and even though it was ridiculous
to have an attachment to a fishing pier, there it was.

“What the hell do you want?” Sunny asked.

“I, uh…” Robby struggled to find his words.
“I was… uh… driving by on my way home from… studying? The lights
were out, but with another car in the lot, I thought I should check
on you.”

“As you can see, I’m fine. Go on home. I’ll
be right behind you.”

Robby looked at the parking lot, then back to
her.

“I understand. It’s okay.” She nodded and
made a little shooing motion with her fingers. “Really, go on. I’ll
be there in a few.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He didn’t look
convinced, but turned and walked away from the door anyway.

Sunny blew out a breath, pushed a clump of
hair out of her face, and turned around.

“He seems like a good kid. He obviously loves
you very much.”

She nodded and smiled. “Yeah. To both.”

Figuring Robby’s interruption had brought his
one night—damn, that stung—to a screeching halt, Gavin went to work
on creating another opportunity. He leaned against the counter and
crossed his arms. “He lives with you?”

“Yeah, for the past six years.”

Whoa, no wonder they were close. Shit, how
old had Sunny been when she took on the responsibility of raising
her brother? How old had he been? “You told me his age earlier, but
I don’t remember.”

She pulled a pin out, brushed back a strand
of hair, then jabbed the pin back into place. “He’ll be twenty-one
in two months.”

He moved in with her when he was fourteen?
She didn’t look like she could have been much older than that
herself, six years ago. Why did she take on such a huge
responsibility at a young age? A familiar sadness settled into his
gut. “Are your parents deceased?”