Summer's Road (16 page)

And there it was. No going back. No regret.

I devoured her mouth, swallowing her moan, and dropped my forehead to hers. I positioned myself, held us over that brink between sanity and bliss where I’d always been. She eclipsed everything and every woman I’d known before her.

Gradually, I entered her, my muscles shaking and protesting the restraint not to plunder. She enveloped me in tight, wet heat and I went blind at the sensation. Once I was rooted to the hilt, I pressed my open mouth to her throat and let out a hoarse yell. I gave her as long as I could to adjust, and then moved. Retreating, thrusting. She surrounded me, every part of her. Her arms wrapped around my neck, fingers in my hair. Her legs banded around my hips, heels digging into my ass, urging me for more.

Seeking out her hands, I laced mine with hers and squeezed. We moved as a unit, as if we’d done this a thousand times before, completely in sync. This was what I’d been missing—the link, the connection to another. Being with her wasn’t just sex, not just an end game.

Her erratic pants against my ear drove me harder, quickening the need for release. She chanted my name, over and over until I didn’t think I could hold out. Desperate, I pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat and shifted my angle to hit her deeper. And she let go, the orgasm spiraling through her and, as she fisted around me, I spun with her.

Unable to move, I sucked ragged breath after ragged breath until the spots before my eyes vanished. Minutes, years, centuries passed, while she stroked my back. Leaning up on one arm, I searched her face for those blue eyes that grounded me, and sighed when her lids lifted. “You slay me, sweetheart.”

Summer

O
kay, well... Mind? Blown.

Ian sprawled partly over me, his weight comfortable instead of pressing. The twin bed didn’t allow for much room, and his large frame took up a good portion of it. Our legs and arms were tangled, a thin sheen of sweat coating our skin. His breathing had finally evened out and he’d fallen asleep. I had yet to draw breath. My mind alert, I stared at the shapes and patterns the light created on the ceiling.

I just had sex with Ian Memmer. My best friend. My...everything. We’d gone there. We’d crossed that line.

When the sun came up tomorrow and I returned to my normal self, all the ramifications of what we’d just done would slam into me. I was sure of it. Everything we could stand to lose would shine a light on this night as the turning point that ruined everything.

But tonight, I couldn’t muster the energy to care. Tonight, someone had made love to me as if I was worth something. As if I were special. I didn’t know Ian could be like that. I’d always imagined him as an up-against-the-wall, scream-my-name kind of guy. In our friendship, he’d always treated me with care. With kindness. We fought like two siblings over toys most of the time, our clashes in personality poking through at every turn. He was terribly protective of me. But I hadn’t expected...tenderness.

I’d only had a couple lovers before him. Sex was kind of like the inevitable part of a relationship. I neither enjoyed nor disliked it. I could take it or leave it. In honesty, it was hard for me to let go and succumb, and none of my partners had taken as much time as Ian had to ensure I enjoyed myself. As if the experience had been all about me.

On the flip side, he had more experience than a Kama Sutra manual. He’d obviously come, had an orgasm, and if I was going to pick apart the details, he’d appeared really overcome by emotion. Not that I had much to go by, but I didn’t think I’d disappointed him. The plethora of women he’d bedded flashed before my mind. Tall, short, curvy, thin, blonde, brunette. All had been more adventurous and audacious than me. At least the ones I’d met.

I had no idea what tonight meant, what would happen from here, but my stomach sank a little as I wondered if I’d be enough to keep his interest. Which was silly. Nothing held Ian’s interest for long. He didn’t date. So where the heck did that leave us?

My skin cooled, the fire from our love-making abating. The central air kicked in and I shivered despite the heat emanating from him. Gently nudging him aside, I sat up to grab the blankets to cover us.

He abruptly jerked upright, snaked his arm around my waist from behind, and pulled me back to his wall of chest. “Don’t go,” he whispered, pressing his face into my neck. A trace of desperation laced his tone. He nestled me between his legs, wrapped those solid arms across my chest, and held me tight against him. A cocoon of warm, hard male. “Just this once, stay.” He buried his face in my neck and sighed.

He made it sound like we’d done this before. He had this rule about spending the night with his partners. He never did. Ever. And though we’d never been lovers, I’d always abided by the no sleepover rule. Whenever I crashed at his place after a movie or hanging out, I made sure to leave before he woke up.

Turning my head, I closed my eyes to the security I felt in his arms and the insecurity of my sudden emotions. Like I couldn’t get a grip on a tangible thought. There one moment, gone the next. Above all, happiness filled me, made me almost giddy. Through the years, I’d learned not to trust the sensation. It could be shattered so easily. But, yeah. Being with Ian made me...happy. In the dark, with the outside world at bay, nothing could touch us. I nuzzled my cheek against his jaw, desperate to keep him near me, for however long this lasted. The past and the future had no place here tonight.

He rested his forehead on my temple, swallowing audibly. Against my backside, he grew erect again, and his muscles tensed as if he were ashamed or scared I’d not like his response. I’m not sure why, but knowing he was unsure too encouraged me.

The heat from earlier began anew, rising in a blush across my skin, firing my nerve endings until they were raw. I placed my hands on his forearms and squeezed, loving the soft skin and dusting of hair over hard muscle. He did such beautiful work with these arms, with his hands. He let out a slow breath and his clenched fists unfurled, fingers splaying over my breasts. He made no other movement, as if testing the water to see my reaction. The fact that he hesitated was humbling. Ian was always so confident, so sure of himself. My heart tripped behind my ribs and a slow burn started in my belly.

Turning in his arms, I straddled him—a bold move for me, but him faltering brought out something courageous in me. He grabbed my hips as if to hold me there, everything else about him absolutely still, frozen. Waiting.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as our gazes collided. Optimism, pain, and something far, far deeper than I expected to find flashed in his brown eyes. This was the Ian who always took care of me, who put me first and would lay down his life for me. Surprised to find this side of him while we were intimate, I reached up and took his face in my hands. His dark stubble grazed my palms and nothing had ever felt so good to me. At this beat in time, he wasn’t my friend or my lover. He was both. This man...I’d do anything for him. I had for the boy he’d been and would for the man he’d become.

Something far stronger than anything I’d known surged between us. Tethered us together in a fragile bond. I could all but see the knot forming. And if the quiet gentleness in his eyes was any indication, he felt it also.

“Ian,” I whispered, desperate to know just how deep this went for him. If this was our only night, if we were done after our short blip together, I needed to prepare myself. No one had ever engaged my heart and body so completely. If I got any deeper, I’d shatter when this ended. That’s how quickly he’d pulled me under.

He let out a barely audible exhale as the tension drained from him. His gaze roamed over my features, and he ran an unsteady hand through my hair, smoothing the strands. “Right here, sweetheart, where I’ve always been.”

When we’d kissed back in his bedroom at home, I’d assumed it was a surge of lust brought on spontaneously. I wasn’t so certain now. I didn’t want to know what that meant. I was too raw to pick apart his implication of how long he’d wondered, waited for me.

I leaned in and kissed him, brushing my lips across his in a feather dance. He moved against my mouth as if talking, but no words emerged. My nipples hardened in response to his flesh against mine. I breathed him in as if that would be enough to capture a playboy vagabond like him. His woodsy scent filled my nose, and the familiarity was jarring.

His hand slid to my neck, holding me to him as he deepened the kiss. I sank under, his tongue stroking mine and exploring my mouth like he wanted to learn everything.

I needed him now, needed the oblivion and bliss only he could give. I rose up and guided him inside me, taking every inch of his thick, hot shaft, and trembled as I sank completely. His breath shuddered when I began a slow grind, his hands sliding up my spine and drawing me closer. My head fell back as I got lost in the full sensation of him inside me, of the way we moved so sensually together. His lips grazed my neck, tongue licking the wild pulse beating in my throat.

The first tendrils of release coiled low in my belly and I moved faster, chasing my orgasm. He grabbed my hips and thrust up, bringing me crashing down on him at the same time. His pelvis pressed against my clit, adding to the heightened sensation. My climax built and detonated, violently ravaging my body. I clung to him, hands in his hair and his name on my lips.

The next thing I knew, he shifted and I was on my back, him buried between my legs and thrusting like he had something to prove, to lose. The exquisite torture built again before I could recover. His forearms rested beside my head, caging me as he plunged into me again and again. A hoarse shout filled my ear. He grunted my name, throwing his head back and tensing over me. His muscles strained, veins popping.

His reaction pushed me over the crest and I held him through our aftershocks. Even as he finished, his hips kept rocking as if drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could, and when he said my name as he drifted to sleep, it sounded like an oath.

Ian

W
ithout trying to move a solitary muscle, I looked down at the blonde hair spread over my chest as if needing confirmation last night had happened. The sheet was wrapped around us in a tangled knot, her breathing even. Her thigh was wedged between mine, her arm laying limp across my chest. Her cheek rested right over my pounding heart. Never, not once, had I awakened to her in my arms, and Christ, I never wanted to open my eyes to empty sheets again.

Holy hell. She was here, in bed with me.

Sunlight streamed into the room from the window, the rays caressing her back in the early morning light. My scent mingled with that of her lilac and sea salt from the breeze. Surreal.

She stretched against me, a moan escaping as she buried her face in my chest. Visions of rolling her over and making love to her half the morning had me growing hard. We needed to talk. I still hadn’t said half the things I wanted to tell her. But she felt too good next to me to do anything but sink inside her and find out what other beautiful noises I could get her to make.

Her thick, pale eyelashes fluttered open, like butterfly wings on my skin. Slowly, she lifted her head as if coming out of an unsure dream. Wide blue eyes stared at me, unblinking.

Oh, shit. Don’t do this to me. Don’t freak out.

“Good morning,” I said through the raw fear choking me. I swallowed past the boulder in my throat to clear the morning hoarseness in my tone.

Her expression never changed, but her stillness was alarming. “Morning.” Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing else escaped.

I cupped her cheek, not knowing what in the hell to do. I’d never actually slept with a woman before, not in the literal sense, and Summer was too important to screw this up. Brushing my thumb across her lower lip, I stared at her, trying to get a read on her state.