Sweetened With a Kiss (20 page)

Jen swatted at her. “Shhh.”

“I’m sorry, I have to ask.”

“No, you don’t,” Jen assured her.

“He isn’t going to know what hit him,” Lizzie laughed.

Stefan was lost in thought when he finally pulled up in the driveway at St. Charles. He was still blown away by the pictures of the sugar flowers Jen had sent him earlier. He’d had no idea she had that kind of talent. And he was having a hard time understanding how he’d missed that. Just like he’d missed her temper. How the hell had that happened?

He’d decided when Jen was sixteen that he was going to marry her. He’d watched her walk downstairs in that fantasy of a dress and lightning had slammed into the base of his skull. He had taken one step forward, intent on breaking the boy waiting for her in half.

Jen was his. Period. No discussion. He’d taken one more step only to have Mac’s hand come down hard on his shoulder. “My office,” his father had warned. “Now.”

Something about the tone of Mac’s voice had sent Stefan to his office where he waited, pacing in front of the fireplace, and trying to stuff his inner Neanderthal back in its cave. He’d stopped when the door closed behind Mac, who looked more amused than angry.

“What do you know about that kid?” Stefan had demanded.

“Senator Waits’s son?” Mac had asked, “Good kid. He’ll have her home by midnight, don’t worry. I threatened to remove his spleen if he didn’t.”

“Good,” Stefan had barked, but he hadn’t been satisfied.

“Your sister’s date too, in case you were concerned.”

“Of course,” Stefan had insisted although he couldn’t even remember what her date looked like.

Mac had crossed the room and rounded his huge executive desk. “So you finally woke up?”

That had stopped Stefan in his tracks. Mac had pulled a folder out and tossed it across the desk. “That’s the documentation and account numbers for her trust fund. You double that value, then we’ll talk. And you don’t touch her until she’s twenty-one, you understand me?”

“Twenty-one?” Stefan had sputtered, grabbing the folder off the desk.

“Twenty-one,” Mac had repeated firmly. “You can take her out when she’s eighteen, but until then, son, she is off limits.”

“You think that I...”

“Off limits.  End of that discussion.”

“She’s mine,” Stefan had informed him.

“That may be,” Mac had said slowly, “But not yet. And only if she wants to be.”

Not once had it ever occurred to Stefan over the years that she might not want the same thing. When he’d found her sitting on the back porch swing after the prom that night, he had not been able to walk away from her.  He’d startled her when he sat down next to her.

“Have fun?” he’d asked, trying not to sound like he’d been eating glass. He hadn’t even paid attention to how many miles he clocked that night running on the treadmill. He didn’t even like running on a treadmill. But he hadn’t trusted himself to run anywhere else, knowing that he would run straight to the prom and drag her out of the dance, despite all of Mac’s warnings.

She’d shrugged and smiled shyly. “I guess. It was hot and they played bad eighties music.”

“Did he kiss you goodnight?”

Surprised brown eyes had snapped up to him and she’d blushed. “Yes,” and the word came out a little breathlessly.

He’d slid the back of his knuckles along her cheek. Her eyelids had dropped and her lips had parted slightly. It had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to kiss her right then and there. She’d been so lovely in that pink dress swaying gently on that swing in the moonlight. Like a princess, he’d thought, a sweet fairy princess. He’d been sure she would dissolve if he really tried to touch her.

“I don’t want you kissing other boys,” he’d said gently, tempering back the steel running through his voice. Unable to resist any longer, he’d reached out and ran his thumb lightly across the fullness of her bottom lip.

Her mouth had curved in surprise, then slid into something a tiny bit wicked. “I won’t kiss any of them, if you’ll kiss me now.”

He’d felt the oxygen whoosh right out of his lungs as her words knocked him completely off guard. He didn’t even remember leaning forward. He just knew that his mouth brushed against hers and that there must have been some sane part of him still functioning because he’d kept it light and sweet. A fairytale of a kiss. A kiss he had never recovered from. A kiss that had ruined him for kisses ever since. He had never imagined that sunshine tasted so sweet.

When he’d lifted his head, her eyes had been closed and her lips slightly parted in protest. “No more boys, Jen. Got it?”

“Got it,” she’d whispered back but hadn’t opened her eyes. “Stefan,” she’d breathed out his name when he’d stood up to leave. She’d opened those liquid brown eyes and stared up at him. She was so beautiful it made him ache. But the instinct to protect was thankfully stronger that night than the instinct to take what was his, and he’d managed something similar to a smile.

“Hmm?”

And then she’d broken him. “Am I dreaming?”

He’d leaned down and kissed her one more time, knowing that it was going to be a long two years without tasting her again. He whispered against her ear. “Yes. Keep it a secret and I’ll make it come true.”

She’d smiled, nodded and leaned back in the swing.

Now as he started to pull into the garage, a flash of familiar pink sparked the corner of his vision. He frowned. Was Jen sitting on the hood of her new car? On the hood? He was out of his SUV and rounded the front before his brain actually comprehended what the pink was.

His lungs seized as he stopped short and his mind went blank. All he could see was pink. Her wicked smile turned positively evil. “Hey, Stefan,” she said slowly, leaning back on her arms, pink tulle rustling in the quiet garage. “Wanna dance?”

She was floating on the hood of the red convertible in an unmistakable cloud of pink tulle. He had no idea what it was about that dress that sent all the blood in his system south. It wasn’t low cut. It was just a simple strapless dress All Stefan knew at the exact moment was that she had not looked that good in that dress six years ago.

She leaned forward again and he realized she was painting her toenails. That did all kinds of cruel and crazy things to him. His eyes followed her movements and his nostrils flared. Her nail polish matched the car, not the dress. Still leaned over, her foot flat against the hood, she turned her face to him. Had his heart actually just stopped? No, there it was, trying to beat out of his chest. She sat up straight and started twisting the cap closed on the bottle of red polish. “Here,” she said, lifting one bare foot at him. “Blow.”

Once again a bright pink lightning bolt slammed into the back of his skull, but this time he didn’t even notice. Watching her lift one graceful foot towards him, extend delicate, red-tipped toes, and demand he blow on them shocked him worse than an entire lightning storm could. That dark and hungry, primitive part of him he’d glimpsed the other night roared to life so quickly there was no way to even begin to control it. Running around the world, twice, would not be enough.

His entire world fundamentally changed in that instant and for once, he was calling her bluff. The rest of the world could go to hell. He was done waiting. He was done being the nice guy. He was done doing the right thing. She won. And Stefan had never been so happy to lose in his life.

Jen really hadn’t gotten any further in her plans than the “Wanna dance?” line, and she was pretty proud of coming up with that. She had no idea what had possessed her to ask him to blow on her toenails. She smiled and let her eyes drift up and down, taking in the hard-muscled length of him as he moved forward. She was in so much trouble. She could hardly wait.

He took four steps towards her, his blue eyes going almost gray. Jen understood what a mouse felt like backed up in the corner of a pet snake’s aquarium.
He is going to devour me and I’m going to let him, because it’s pretty damn useless to try and stop him.

He did stop though, visibly struggling for a moment. She was afraid he was going to change his mind and was desperately trying to think of something else clever to say, when he spoke in a low, silky smooth voice with a dangerous edge that she’d never heard before. “I had it all planned.”

Her skin started to sizzle as the words floated to her, smoky and seductive, weaving around her and holding her in place as he continued towards her.

“Music, champagne. I was going to spend hours seducing you. Kissing you, tasting you, making sure you were ready. Everything was going to be perfect.”

He caught her ankle and pulled her to the edge of the hood. She looked up at him, unable to breathe. Who needed air anyway? She had everything she needed right here.

He slowly ran one warm finger across her jaw, tracing a line of heat across the delicate curve. His finger stopped at her bottom lip. “I was going to be gentle, and sweet, and make it the best night of your life. The perfect wedding night.”

She was mesmerized. His voice turned her insides to lava. She couldn’t feel her legs.

“Like Prince Charming?” she asked, her voice was so husky she wasn’t sure he even heard her. But his finger tapped against her lips to stop her so he must have understood. Then he pressed it along her bottom lip, his eyes so focused on the movement that Jen’s heart actually started to slow down and her bones started to soften. The tip of her tongue flicked out to taste the edge of his finger.

“I wanted to wait,” he said, the mist getting deeper around them, the rest of the world rolling away. “Just like Prince Charming,” he finally admitted. The finger was now tracing down her neck to the edge of the strapless gown.

“Stefan,” she whispered, his blue eyes flicking back up to her face. Yep, absolutely everything she’d ever wanted.

“Hmm?” His fingers continued to trace along the edges of the bodice.

She arched instinctively towards him. Every single part of her ached for him. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She breathed the words out, so conscious of his hands moving over her it was hard to speak. “I don’t want Prince Charming.”

He caught her hands in his, leaned forward, and pressed her back against the hood. He pinned both her wrists with one hand. She caught her breath. He was really going to do this.

“I’m not charming,” he assured her, his hand tightening on her wrists as he held her in place. He lowered his mouth to hers, but he didn’t touch her lips. She could feel the heat from his mouth. His head tilted slightly, bringing their lips even closer without touching. She could already taste him. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his lips barely brushing hers. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you,” she whispered, the words sliding like feathers across her lips, “to lose.”

“You got it,” he groaned against her mouth.

There was just no way Jen could’ve been prepared for him. She’d underestimated how much he had been holding back from her. She’d failed to factor in that Stefan was an endurance athlete. He could run for hours without breaking a sweat. He’d been in this for the long haul. While she loved being able to trip up his plans and really wanted to win their silly little war, in no way had she been ready for her prize.

She lost track of how long they were in the garage. All she knew was his mouth on hers, his hands on her. He let her arms down to curl around his neck. The kiss went deeper, and deeper until she was sure they’d never find their way back. She was vaguely aware of him guiding her legs around his waist so he could lift her up and walk them both inside. Her arms tightened around him. She was never letting him go.

He breathed against her, not really lifting his mouth away from hers as he spoke. “Our first time will not be on the hood of a car.”

“Second time?” she asked hopefully, and smiled when he laughed, burying his face against her throat.

Somehow his mouth never left hers unless it was to trail across her face and down her neck. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t stopping. Not this time. Then he was tumbling her back on his bed, still kissing her. His hand slid under the dress, stroking her leg. Warm fingers smoothed up the inside of her thighs. He went very still and dragged in a harsh ragged breath when his hands continued to meet bare skin.