Love Me Tender (12 page)

Dave closed the door gently and joined Cassidy on the couch. He sat close, but not too close, and took a sip of wine as she clicked
PLAY
.

Dancing couples filled the screen—in black and white, and slow-mo. The sexy, suggestive dancing matched the title of the movie. Oh man, if Cassidy's movie choice was a clue to her expectations for the evening, he was in for a steamy one.

Cassidy sighed with pleasure. Wine and popcorn. One of her all-time favorite movies. A handsome man beside her—one with sexy bare legs below his shorts, a man she might very well have sex with tonight. What a perfect way to spend an evening.

It was her mom who'd introduced her to this movie, when Cassidy was thirteen and her parents were married for the second time. Justine loved to dance. Gramps had given her all sorts of dance lessons. He said that if she'd applied herself, she might have been able to dance professionally. But discipline had never been Justine's forte, and her doting dad hadn't pushed her. He'd known dance was a hard life and had wanted only for her to be happy.

He'd felt the same about Cassidy and her brother. But as much as he'd tried, by giving them gifts and taking them on outings, a grandfather's attention couldn't make up for their parents' frequent inattention. That was why things like movie night with Justine had been so special. When dance scenes came on in any movie and Luis wasn't home, she'd get Cassidy and JJ up to dance with her. Of course when Luis was home, it was the two of them. Sexy, teasing, smoking hot. Her parents knew all there was to know about dirty dancing.

She glanced at Dave. The movie seemed to have caught his attention. She hoped he enjoyed it, and yeah, she also hoped the sexy parts gave him some ideas. But really, what she wanted tonight was for the two of them to relax alone together—away from work, his family, and the good-hearted but nosy residents of Caribou Crossing. Just a quiet time to be two adults enjoying some R&R. If that R&R didn't turn X-rated tonight, there'd be other chances. He couldn't keep resisting the attraction between them.

For her, the simple fact of his presence beside her was enough to put her body on alert, each cell aware and craving his touch. She sure hoped it was the same for him.

She plunked the popcorn bowl on the couch between them, where their fingers would brush if they dipped in at the same time. Then she raised her bare feet to the coffee table and settled back.

When the movie's heroine, Baby, first saw the staff dancing, some of the moves like sex with clothes on, Cassidy asked, “Do you like the dirty dancing?”

“Very hot.”

Other than making an occasional comment, she and Dave watched quietly, sipping wine, nibbling popcorn, and yes, brushing fingers occasionally. The popcorn was finished by the time Johnny Castle was teaching Baby how to dance so she could fill in for his usual partner. Cassidy moved the empty bowl to the coffee table. When she settled back into the couch, she shifted closer to Dave so their shoulders bumped.

After a few minutes, Dave's arm came around her shoulders. She nestled closer, enjoying the firm, warm feel of him, and slid her foot against his on the coffee table, let her bare knee brush his. Ramping up the level of awareness in her body and, she hoped, in his.

“This is nice,” he murmured, his fingers gently caressing her shoulder, where her wild goose flew with the moon on her wing.

Keeping it low key, Cassidy didn't do much more than occasionally shift position so her hand, knee, or foot brushed against his bare skin. The movie seemed to engage him, which for her meant a lot of points to Dave. A chick flick with substance, and he could relate to it. Being a father probably helped, since part of the story involved a father and daughter.

When the movie ended, she shifted inside the curve of his arm so she could look at him. “What did you think?”

“Good movie. Interesting characters and story, and a good message.”

“If Robin was Baby, what would you think?”

“She'd be grounded for life. For disobeying me, for having sex before the age of thirty. But I'd be proud as hell of her.”

“I figured you'd say that.”

“She's a lot like Baby. She'll help any kid or animal that's in trouble. She gets that from her mom.”

“And her dad.”

A startled expression flicked across his face. Didn't he realize what a role model he was for his daughter? After a moment, he said, “Uh, thanks.”

Wanting to create a more intimate, sensual mood, she trailed her fingers up his arm. “You liked the dancing?”

“Uh, yeah. I've sure never danced like that.”

Excellent! She could give him a first. Rising, she held out her hands. “Let's give it a try.”

“You want to launch yourself into the air and hope I catch you?” he asked, referring to the famous lift scene. His hazel eyes twinkled.

“Ha ha.” She took his hands and tugged.

He cooperated and rose, maneuvering around the coffee table to stand in front of her. “I don't have any sixties music like in the movie.”

Wishing that she'd thought to look for music at the library when she'd picked up the movie, she did a quick check of his collection. Country music tended to be sad, about lost love, so she avoided it. Rock didn't suit the mood. Hoping she wasn't picking one of Anita's favorite albums, she chose a Diana Krall collection of light jazz.

When the song “'S Wonderful” came on, Dave's eyebrows rose but he didn't protest.

She stepped from the large blue and tan area rug onto the hardwood. “Let's not start out too ambitious. How about a clutch-and-shuffle to warm up?” She slung her arms around his neck and leaned in, resting her hips lightly against his. Oh yes, that felt good.

His arms came around to circle her back, and that felt good too. Slowly, he began to move. His athletic body had a natural rhythm. His feet caught the beat and she let him lead, keeping the contact between them minimal. Letting their bodies get used to each other; letting anticipation build. Hers certainly was, as she moved gently against the graceful strength of his muscular body.

Her fingers brushed the skin of his neck above the collar of his short-sleeved shirt, toyed with the ends of his sandy hair. Mmm, everything about Dave felt good.

His hands slid down her back until they rested at her waist, above the curve of her butt.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder. Through cotton, she savored his heat, the firmness of his muscles. Arousal quivered through her and she felt the press of his growing erection.

“You feel good,” he murmured. “I like this.”

“Me too.” Figuring they were both ready to kick things up a notch, she said, “You know the secret to dirty dancing?”

“Haven't a clue.”

“It's in the hips. You have to feel the music, the pulse, the heat, all of it in your hips.” She slid her hips forward to press more firmly against him, swiveling them back and forth slowly, relentlessly.

He pumped his hips gently. He was hard now, behind his fly. As she continued to tease her pelvis back and forth, each brush against his erection fueled her own arousal. He was holding back, though, clearly not entirely into the vibe of dirty dancing.

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and gazed up at him, noting the flush of color on his cheekbones. “Relax and let go,” she urged softly. “Feel the rhythm, our rhythm.”

“Do you know how hot you are?” His voice rasped.

“Show me.”

He lowered his hands to cup her butt, then thrust harder into her. His movements weren't fast and demanding; they were slow and sultry, like the music.

She kissed him through his shirt, then unbuttoned three buttons and pressed her lips against his bare skin. He smelled fresh, a little woodsy, a touch like soap. He'd showered before she came over, as she had. Delicately, she trailed her tongue across his skin to the hollow at the base of his neck, where his pulse throbbed quickly.

His hands caressed her butt cheeks and their hips gyrated in a sexy rhythm.

She hooked her hands behind his neck again, went up on her toes, and found that he was gazing into her eyes, his own hazel ones burning golden. “Cassidy,” he murmured.

“Yes?” she whispered. “What?”

“This.” And then he kissed her. Saturday night, his kiss had been hard and needy. This time, he went slower, as if he knew they had plenty of time. As if he wanted to explore her mouth, to learn every detail, to make this kiss last forever. His firm lips, teasing tongue, sweet breath, the slightest hint of salt from the popcorn were bliss.

She ran a hand up the side of his neck and into his hair, twining the springy strands around her fingers, messing it up. With a final lick across his lips, she broke the kiss, let go of his head, and leaned back.

Automatically, one of his arms came around her waist, helping her balance as she arched farther back, thrusting her breasts out, gyrating her hips against him.

“Oh, man,” he groaned.

She wanted to groan too, from the sweet pressure that, even through their shorts and underwear, had her pussy damp and pulsing with need. Lifting her upper body slightly, she undid the rest of his shirt buttons. His shirt hung open, baring a swathe of muscled torso, a scattering of hair on his chest, a trail of darker hair arrowing down to his waistband. Delicious. She wanted to touch, to taste every inch of him. Wanted to feel him do the same to her.

Everything she'd seen Dave do, from riding to cooking to managing the inn, he'd been super competent at. He was also a perceptive, considerate man. She'd bet that lovemaking was one of his special talents.

Still relying on his support, keeping the hip motion going, she worked the tank top over her head, leaving her bra on. When she tossed the tank aside, his gaze was glued to her breasts, clad in pink trimmed with lace. Her nipples were hard, poking at the satiny fabric.

She trailed her fingers down his torso. When she traced the waistband of his shorts, grazing his flesh, he groaned. Taking that as permission, she undid the button, unzipped the fly, then took a step backward, separating their bodies so she could pull his shorts down. As she did, he impatiently shrugged off his shirt and it hit the floor too. Leaving him naked but for seriously tented blue cotton boxers. And wasn't he a sight for sore eyes, and a needy pussy.

Quickly, she slipped out of her own shorts, which left her in a lust-dampened thong that matched her bra. It was one of the few times she wished she had long hair, because she'd have given it a sultry toss over her shoulder. The gesture would probably have been lost on him anyhow, since his gaze was focused well below her neck.

“So pretty,” he muttered.

“You too.” She moved close again and straddled his naked thigh, letting him know how wet he made her.

He pumped, his boxer-draped erection brushing her thigh.

She shifted back to stand between his legs, pressing her pelvis close against his while she ran her hands up his chest. Vaguely, she was aware of Diana Krall singing “All or Nothing at All.” The singer was referring to wanting love, but what Cassidy wanted was all of this sexy man's body. She twined one leg around him, as high on his hip as she could reach, trying to bring their most intimate parts into contact.

Dave surprised her then, reaching under her thighs and lifting her off the ground.

Automatically, her other leg wrapped around him too as he held her exactly where she wanted to be, with his thick, rigid shaft rubbing the crotch of her panties. She gripped his upper arms, steadying herself.

His head was thrown back, his eyelids at half mast as he concentrated. His hips thrust in raunchy, sex-mimicking motions, each stroke sliding firmly back and forth, pressing damp silk against her swollen labia and clit.

She whimpered, the sweet tense ache of arousal building, climbing with each thrust. There was absolutely no reason to hold back, so she didn't. She ground against him, rode him, let him take her exactly where she wanted to go—and climaxed with a cry of pleasure.

Lost in sensation, she had squeezed her eyes shut. When she dragged them open, breathing hard, she gazed up into his face.

His expression was pleased, but almost disbelieving. “You can come like that?”

She gave a satisfied purr. “You give great dirty dancing.”

It was time to move the action off the dance floor. She was afraid that if they went into the bedroom memories would surface for him and spoil things. Instead, she tapped his chest to get him to release her, and then she let her feet drop to the floor. Quickly, she shed her bra and thong and, while he was gaping, she dragged off his boxers as well.

His dick sprang free, thick and bold and beautiful, the tip damp with pre-come.

Her greedy fingers reached for it.

When she touched him, he jerked, thrust convulsively, then pulled away. “I'm too close.”

“You're nowhere near close enough.” She bent to reach in her shorts pocket and pull out the condom she'd stashed there. After opening the package, she asked, “May I?”

Humor twitched the corners of his mouth. “Extremely carefully.”

She obeyed, not wanting him to come until he was inside her. And, from the looks of him, that had better happen sooner rather than later. Fortunately, she was as primed as he.

The area rug was made of braided cotton, soft underfoot. It would be soft under their bodies too. She knelt on it and pulled him down to kneel in front of her. Then she reached up to tangle both hands in his hair again, and she kissed him.

He responded hungrily, and in a moment he'd taken charge, urging her down on her back.

Still kissing, she bent her legs, opening them in clear invitation.

“Oh God,” he muttered against her lips, his cheeks flaming with hectic color. “I want to touch you, kiss your breasts, but I want you so bad, Cassidy.”

“I want you too. Inside me,” she said. And then, in case she'd left any doubt in his mind, she said, “Now.”

He made a growly sound of relief and desperate need, and then he stroked between her legs. One finger slid into her and she gave a welcoming moan; then another finger joined the first.