Something About You (Just Me & You) (26 page)

“I think perfection is a front for the worst kind of
dysfunction. Show me a man who tells me that his marriage is wonderful and his
wife is perfect, and I’ll show you a big fat liar with a honey or two on the
side.”

Gage immediately thought of Sabrina’s boss. Now, there was a
man who was fooling around if he’d ever seen one. Gage had picked up on Theo
Ward’s rumpled tuxedo and the small, cordial distance the representative had
put between himself and his wife, Jillian. 

“You really think there should be friction in a marriage?”
Sabrina wondered with a frown.

“Absolutely,” he said frankly. “But not a lot and not all
the time. You and I disagree. We argue and then we call truce. It’s
frustrating, but it’s
real
. If you want a country club marriage like the
Coles’ where no one raises their voice other than to yell at the help, prepare
yourself for a lifetime of boredom, frustration and staring at the personal
trainer’s ass. Me? I like a challenge.”

Gage looked her square in the eye. This was no sweet talk.
He wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear. This was Sabrina. Suddenly, he
was aware of one sure thing. He would always tell her the truth, no matter
what.

She broke their gaze, cleared her throat and quickly looked
down at her lap.

“Did you know that Milton Hershey never intended to become a
chocolate maker?” she asked as she balled up the spent foil. “He originally
started a caramel factory. Somehow ‘Hershey’s Chews’ doesn’t have the same
ring.”

Gage laughed. “That was so apropos of nothing remotely
related to the subject at hand — which is the only way I know you’re
trying to change it. Hell, Sabrina. I could spend the rest of the years of my
life and short-circuit that many brain cells to the power of ten trying to
figure out what makes you tick.”

“Then you’d be ill-advised to try, wouldn’t you?” Her voice
sounded slightly breathless as she glanced up at him from under a swoop of
bangs. It was a distinctly sexual look. A slightly predatory look. Gage could
almost hear the hiss of tension between them as she shifted in her seat to draw
closer to him.

This time she definitely wasn’t giving him a show.

With no port and peacocks to blame, she leaned over and
kissed the edge of his mouth. Then she moved her lips onto his for more. She
had said “no complications,” hadn’t she? The woman was an exercise in
contradiction, Gage told himself as he kissed her with the same intensity as he
had on the south lawn. She tasted so damned good, like chocolate and rainwater.
And she was more responsive to his touch than any woman he’d ever met, pressing
her cheek into his palm as he kissed the base of her throat where her pulse
beat madly.

He tried to be tender. To give her the long, languid kisses
she deserved. But Sabrina wasn’t in the mood for anything quite so precious.
She ran her hands over his chest fervently, tracing the nubs of his ribs under
her fingertips. Her breathing came faster as she unbuttoned his shirt and lay
her palms flush against his chest.

Gage’s rational side reminded her that heavy petting in the
front of the GTO was the frolic of horny teenagers. Hadn’t he outgrown that
shortly after senior year in high school, when he tried to talk countless girls
into touching his junk? But there was something about Sabrina. Every kiss —
the same kiss engaged in by legions of men and women during the course of
civilized and uncivilized society — felt new and exciting with her, like
his first memories of thunderstorms, ice skating and space shuttle takeoffs.
Thrilling, unpredictable and just a little dangerous.

So easy to fall …

It was time to put on the brakes before the situation spun
out of control.
His
control.

“This is moving fast,” he breathed. “We should talk about
what’s really going on here.”

“Can’t,” she said in a throaty voice. “Stopping is for
people who don’t intend to finish the race.”

He shuddered as Sabrina nestled her lips into the tender
hollow under his earlobe.

“Yeah, but I’m trying to conserve energy —
ahhh!
”
He winced with pleasure as she dragged her fingers down his skin from sternum
to belly. But he was still in the driver’s seat and reminded her of this fact
by grasping her wrists lightly in his hands.  

“You told me you didn’t want complications,” he reminded
her. “You were very clear about that.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Sabrina bowed her head contritely.

“So.” He released her wrists slowly. “If you don’t want
tension between us, why are you all over me all of a sudden? Or have you even
thought about it?”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked
slightly abashed. Gage noticed that they’d already fogged up the GTO’s windows.

“Well?” He waited for her to respond with the Sabrina March
logic to which he’d become accustomed. None was forthcoming. Before he knew
what was happening, she’d cleared the gearshift and was straddling him lightly,
her hands grasping the waistband of his jeans.

“I need another catharsis,” she said, her breath hot against
his lips.

“Huh. I figured as much. As long as we’re being honest with
each —
oh god
,” he hissed out a pained sigh as her fingertips slid
into the denim and trailed across the plummy tip of his cock, back and forth,
ever so lightly. Then she took it in her hand using just the right amount of
pressure, as though she knew just what he needed and where he needed it the
most. Gage felt like he was seventeen again, only the passenger seat wasn’t
occupied by a Walden girl who didn’t know what she was doing with her hands.
This was Sabrina, and she was stroking his cock, slowly and luxuriously, like
she had all the time in the world. He closed his eyes, not wanting the
sensation to end. Suddenly the heady, rhythmic motion ceased. Why was she
stopping now? Gage wondered. His eyelids fluttered open just enough to see a
cap of sleek tortoiseshell hair descend into his lap, and then he felt her hot,
wet mouth all over him, picking up where her hand left off. She swirled her
tongue around him with each seductive stroke.

A hoarse cry escaped from his lips, and he instinctively dug
his fingers into her hair. 

Dear god.
If she kept this up—

A car door slammed behind them, and he heard the sound of
voices drawing closer. Sabrina hastily unhanded him, and then she and Gage
organized themselves in their seats. He managed to zip up his pants just as
four college-aged kids staggered past the GTO on their way to the tree, beer
bottles dangling in hand.

“
Yo, man! Did you remember the keys? The keys, man! Where
are they?
”

“
Shit, Houser. Left ’em in the ignition. Chill.
”

After the voices grew distant, Gage looked at Sabrina
cautiously. Her eyes swept over his chest and torso with hunger and blatant appreciation.
She was confused, he decided. She would probably regret everything in the
morning. But she knew what she was asking of him. Damn straight she did.

But did she know that once he felt her soft, naked body
under his, he’d want her again and again?

“Sabrina?” He turned her name into a loaded question. He
didn’t know or care what would happen twenty-four hours from now. Or even the
next four. He only knew that he wanted her badly enough to disturb the peace.

Sabrina’s lips parted as she inhaled shortly. “Yes,” she
whispered. “Yes to everything.” Her eyes were drowsy with lust, dilated under a
thick fringe of lashes.

“Okay. As long as you remember who started it,” he said
before slamming the car in reverse.

Sabrina was no longer coherent by the time they reached the
house.

There had to be some chemical the brain released just prior
to sex that made people get a little stupid, she decided as she watched Gage
unlock the front door. A chemical that accounted for every misbegotten
one-night stand and ill-fated relationship and that also explained why the
smell of his skin had gone from subtly sexy to purely intoxicating.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her across the
threshold as though she weighed nothing. Taking delight in her
Scarlett-on-the-staircase moment, Sabrina let him carry her into his bedroom
and deposit her by the big four-poster. Now his fingers were unfastening the
buttons on her jeans.

“I haven’t shaved,” she warned him, thinking about the
three-day stubble on her calves.

Gage gave her an amused look. “C’mon, honey. Do I strike you
as the kind of guy who gets turned off by a little leg hair?” He pulled her
jeans over her hips so she could step out of them. A dark, wet patch the shape
of a half-moon had spread across the front of her underwear.

“I knew I wasn’t imagining things,” he said, stroking the
damp stain. The light, sudden contact made her shiver.

“What things?” she asked.

He began to unbutton her shirt. “You’ve wanted to jump my
bones from the minute you saw me at the wedding reception. And you wanted to
really, really badly.”

“You know this how?”

“Because whenever we’re within six feet of each other, you
start to shake like a racehorse trying to get out of the starting gate. And—”
He lowered her onto the bed slowly. “—I can smell it all over you,” he
whispered, pushing the silk sleeves over her shoulders.

Sabrina wasn’t ashamed of her body. On the contrary, she was
proud of it. It was small, strong and evenly proportioned. She worked hard to
maintain it and was choosy about who saw it. Gage’s appreciative gaze made her
want to arch into his hands when he touched her. Her mind was tuned out to
everything but sound and sensation. She heard the tiny snap as he deftly undid
the front clasp of her bra. She gasped as he took one puckered nipple into his
mouth and grazed it with his teeth. He cupped her other breast with one large
hand in what was almost a protective gesture.

She reveled in the reverence she saw in his eyes as he
paused to admire the curves of her breasts and the smooth skin of her belly.
Slowly he peeled off her underwear and brushed the soft tuft of hair with the
back of his hand. She quivered in response.

“Damn, you’re fine,” he said before he kissed her again. She
ran her hands across his broad shoulders and down his back. The chafe of her
bare skin against his jeans and flannel shirt felt tantalizingly good, but she
wanted a different texture. Skin texture.
Him.

“Strip, Fitzgerald,” she demanded huskily as she pushed him
away.

“I knew I was right.” He grinned. “Help or watch?”

“
Watch.
”

He undressed not teasingly or eagerly but simply and
efficiently in preparation for doing what a man had to do. She’d already seen
his bare torso but as she watched his shirt slide off his shoulders, revealing
their width and the ripple of muscle, it was like seeing him again for the
first time. He pulled off his jeans to reveal big, strong thighs and calves
that were equally as defined. His erection bobbed slightly. It was proportionately
sized, long, with an impressive circumference and thickly veined. A milky tear
had formed at the tip. She didn’t know when he would be inside of her. Only
that he would. A trickle of trepidation ran down her spine.

“Gage?”

He gave her a look of concern. “Having second thoughts?”

“Not one. It’s just that … what if this turns out
badly? You know how sometimes you think you want to have sex with someone only
when you do it’s awkward and disappointing?”

“If any other woman had asked me that question, I might have
said yes,” he said as he climbed over her. “But you and me together? Cakewalk.
You’ll see. We just need to put in some warm-up time.”

The friction of his body against hers as they tussled
electrified her senses. Like a child with a new toy, she reveled in exploring
him. She ran her toes down one strong calf while her hands admired his
prominent triceps and the muscular curves of his back. He didn’t have the
springy, bulked-up build of a dedicated gym rat but the body of a day laborer
with just the right amount of padding. He traced the delicate bones of her neck
with his fingertips, pressing down with more urgency as he ran his hands over
her hips and then her buttocks. The slow burn of his mouth on hers was more
urgent. Sabrina had heard about men who approached sex with the same natural
vigor as they would a good meal after a long day or a swim on a hot afternoon.

Gage was one of them.

The plain white sheets on his bed were soft from years of
launderings. Sabrina was aware that most if not all of her reasoning skills had
gone out the window, but there was a faint, nagging buzz in the back of her
skull as though she’d overslept her alarm.

“You’re not using protection,” she murmured against his warm
shoulder. Damn, why did he have to smell and taste so good? Like sun-dried
laundry and caramelized sugar.

“No,” he said distractedly.

“You have condoms.”

“Scoping out my Dopp Kit, were you?”

“This is theoretical, but what would happen if you got me
pregnant?”

“I guess I’d become a family man,” was his reply.

Was it her imagination, or did he just get harder? “Gage, I
can’t let that hap—”

His lips smothered the tail end of her protest. “Kissing you
seems to be the only way to make you shut up.” He paused to look at her.
“Should I be worried about getting you pregnant?”

“It would be a real long shot.”

“Then let me in, Sabrina,” he said hoarsely.

“Just this once,” she heard herself saying. What was it
about this man that made her totally lose her inhibitions — and her common
sense? 

“Oh, darlin’,” he grinned. “Believe me, I have no intention
of stopping after one.”

The firm touch of his thumb in the middle of her perineum
sent a shock up her spine. Then he drew his thumb over her wet sex so slowly
she could feel the fine ridges of his print rubbing against her flesh. She felt
the heat of his skin as he paused at her clit with a slight pressure and
rubbed, as though he were testing a sensitive instrument. While she was still
quaking from the test stroke, his head disappeared between her thighs. His
breath felt hot and cool at the same time, making her folds unfurl and her hips
arch. His tongue traced the perimeter lightly, stimulating her just enough to
give her a promise of pleasure.

He knew exactly what he was doing; he was intentionally
making her want him, she thought, as her nails dug into the sheets.

Of course he was knew what he was doing. This was Gage.

Then he began to kiss her there slowly and deeply just as he
had that night at Green Pastures. Only he’d altered his technique to take her
rhythm into consideration. The way he used his tongue was too skilled to be
dreamed up on the fly but too sensual to be overly rehearsed. It was having the
right effect. She’d barely recovered from the shock of the first contact when a
sweet, familiar tension began to bloom somewhere deep inside of her.

“Gage—!” The orgasm shot her into orbit so fast it was
almost obscene, spiraling on and on until she lost coherence. Steadying her
hips with his hands, he kept his mouth against the sensitive folds and waited
until the strong contractions slowed and finally ceased before releasing her.

“Amazing.” He ran his fingers over the lips of her sex
leisurely as though she were made of fine leather. “We’re easy together. What
did I tell you?”  

She still felt heady with pleasure, but her body ached with
boundless hunger she’d never experienced before. The first orgasm had given her
a taste of fulfillment. It wasn’t enough. Just the first bite of something
bigger and far more delectable. She wanted him to fill all of the gaps and
spaces and sate her completely.

“Gage, please — now —
please
?”

“You have to be the most damned impatient woman I’ve ever
met.” He loosened the tight grip of her legs around his waist, instinctively
drawing his pelvis to hers. “The first time only happens once. Do you want it
to be over before it even starts?”

“Of course not.”

“Then let me take the lead,” he whispered beneath her ear.
He positioned himself above her and pried her legs apart, massaging the taut
muscles in her inner thighs. His erection, still at full mast, was poised above
them.

“Touching is allowed, however,” he informed her. “All kinds
of touching.”

“Did I ask for permission?” She didn’t recognize the growly
sexpot voice that came out of her mouth. She explored him with her hands,
marveling at the softness of his warm skin. Her fingers traced the complex
network of veins that ran the length of his cock. Simultaneously voluptuous and
hard, like a Moore sculpture warmed by the sun, the shape of it alone was
erotic and clearly designed by nature to please. It didn’t seem possible that
it would fit inside of her. That she could be so malleable.

Everything about him wasn’t only bigger, but just plain
big
.
The bones of her pelvis fit neatly into his like stacking shells. There wasn’t
an inch of her body that couldn’t be covered by or engulfed by his. Simply by
wrapping her legs around his waist, she felt as though she were being stretched
apart like a wishbone. A combination of moonlight and streetlight flooded the
room, casting everything in a cool silver hue. She could see him looking at her
intently, studying the curves and angles of her body.

He entered her tentatively at first with a slow, deliberate
glide, just deep enough. Then after giving her time to adjust to his girth, he
began to move in slow, shallow thrusts, stroking her right where all of the
pivotal nerves were bundled. He wasn’t just trying to get off, she realized; he
was trying to make it
so damned good
. And it almost hurt. The next
orgasm danced elusively around the edges. She felt insane with need.

“Gage—” She didn’t need to say anything else. Interpreting
her tone and beseeching look, he simply reached down and located the
hypersensitive nub between her legs. With a few strokes, she trembled to a
climax again, this one far more powerful than the last. Right when she
recovered, he stroked her again, having located the tiny sweet spot that women
never tell about and men discover through trial and error. Gage had got it
spot-on during the first try.

As another orgasm washed over her, her instinct was to
impale herself on him to the hilt. He firmly refused to let her. Oblivious to
everything else going on around her, she let him stoke the fire over and over
again until she could feel the heat radiating from her skin. Finally he
relented and let her take him in completely, assuaging the hollow. The pain and
the pleasure were exquisite; she felt like something inside of her would split
and rupture.

 Gage grasped her buttocks and pressed her against him
tightly until the last contractions of her climax ceased. She could feel him
flexing inside of her. The utter lack of motion had to be driving him crazy,
she thought.

“Tell me what it feels like for you, without using the word
‘good’.” His voice sounded several pitches lower. Low and throaty.

“Like—” Now she was panting. “—It’s like coming up for a
deep breath of air after I’ve been swimming underwater for a long time.” She
sucked in a breath as the head of his cock butted against her cervix, reminding
her that it wasn’t going anyplace soon.

His mouth crashed into hers in a soul-bruising kiss. She was
overwhelmed by competing sensory input: the lush texture of his lips against
hers, the density of his hair between her fingers, and the pungent smell of
salt, sweat and
her
. She wanted this physical closeness. Wanted him to
dive in deeper. Wanted to seep into his skin and disappear. When their lips
finally parted, he was breathing heavily.

“It’s my turn now,” he told her. “I won’t be gentle.”

Sabrina lay back and let him take control. Every other
intimate encounter seemed like a tedious, mechanical pastime compared to his
deep, luxurious thrusts. He picked up the pace, slamming into her faster and
deeper. One big hand cupped her buttock while the other was braced against the
post of the bed, now quivering under their weight as though it had come alive.
Sabrina could feel the muscles in his shoulders grow tense under her palms. He
was diamond-hard now, with absolutely no pliancy. He called her name urgently,
tipping her over the edge. The final orgasm was sharp and explosive, rippling
through her belly and cutting into her solar plexus. She was vaguely aware of
the hoarse shout that came from his throat and the animal cries that came from
her own as they crashed into each other one final time.
Serendipity
, she
thought, as his contractions throbbed against her counterpoint.

Gage collapsed against her to get his breath and bearings.
Winding one leg around hers, he rolled over on his back so they still remained
attached at the nether point. His chest was big enough that she could lay her
cheek against it and hear the sound of his pounding heartbeat as it gradually
slowed to its regular rhythm. Of all the things they’d done and body parts that
had touched, this was the most intimate.

Listening to the sound of his heart.

He played with her hair idly, twirling a strand around his
forefinger.

“Other than coming inside you so hard I thought I’d pass
out, you know what was the best part?” he asked softly.

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” she said blissfully. When had
sex ever been that good? Or had it ever?