Taking Her Time (11 page)

The hot look he sent her said he truly would, and she scrambled off Tucker and hurried for the safety of the house.

After a long hard night of tossing and turning, she did not care about how she looked, or who she saw, or what they thought as she trudged for the coffeepot. She poured a cup and sat down to mull the dark bog of her life.

Gary, fully dressed and chipper, bent to kiss her cheek. “Call you later, Carly. Thanks for the nice time.”

She gave him an airy wave that said she did not care about anything and for him to go away. Drained and exhausted, she listened to Tucker and Gary—new best friends—trade jovial goodbyes. Livingston added his “Awwk. Come back. Come back.”

Then Tucker was standing beside her kitchen chair. “That bad, is it?”

She wanted to wallow in the pits—without her ex-husband. When the calendar year turned over, she just might pick herself up for another go at life. “Shouldn't you go to work?”

“Have to deal with life today, honey. There comes a time when it's just more important than work,” he said as he bent and picked her up and carried her to his bed, easing her beneath the sheets. He slid in behind her and curled around her, giving her the safety that she'd needed for years. She rested against him, the soothing stroke of his hand on her hair causing her to doze.

When Carly awoke, Tucker lay sprawled on his back, sleeping deeply in the morning shadows. He looked young and new and sweet, and vulnerable. He was perfect for the taking. Carly eased off her T-shirt and her briefs, then eased to lie beside him again, comparing his length to hers. In their marriage, she'd been uncertain of lovemaking rules, but now she'd read how-to magazine articles.

And she knew what she wanted—Tucker. “I'd like a real go at you,” she whispered when his eyelashes fluttered.

“Come ahead,” he whispered back rawly. “The ball is in your court.”

“There's a lot of you.”

“Start anywhere. I can take it. But first, why don't you lie on top of me and let me tell you a few things. Then maybe you could tell me a few.”

At his invitation, Carly eased over him, found the hardness that said he wanted her and captured it between her thighs. Tucker's hands were easing back her hair, his expression serious and tender.

Before he could speak, the words came flowing from her lips, “I love you, Tucker. I always have.”

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes as his hands opened and trembled as they skimmed her body. “Tell me I'm not dreaming.”

“Gary told you what I said, didn't he? That's why you changed your mind about going to work.”

Tucker turned her so quickly that he took away her breath. She lay beneath him, and fire burned their skin, his eyes flashing and hot, his skin tight across his cheekbones. “He told me. We talked. I thought I'd try some new romancing techniques on you, because I was too fired-up to do that years ago. You need sweet talk and erotic play, and—”

“You're not going to do that now, are you?” She hoped he wouldn't.

“You're a fast game, Carly Redford. You can't always have your way. That's what was wrong before—you'd just look at me and I'd start burning. I'd come at you before I knew what I was doing.”

“You made the advances. I need to do some of that.”

“Now?” he asked tightly, rawly.

“There's not enough time.” She moved and turned him easily, moving over him again. His hands flowed to her breasts, along her sides and up to her face, drawing her down for a long, slow tender kiss. “Hi, Carly.”

“Hey, Tucker,” she whispered against his lips and then suckled the bottom one just a bit, tasting this new person. He lay still as she experimented with the fit of their bodies, the way his skin smelled as she nuzzled him, the rough texture against her smooth one. She caressed the hair on his chest, the width of his shoulders and met the heavy-lidded stare of those hot eyes. She bent to nuzzle his throat, to trail lower, to find his nipples, flicking them with her tongue.

Tucker's big body quivered beneath her touch, but yet he held still, waiting for her to complete her journey. “How long is this going to take?” he asked breathlessly.

“I'm trying to control the pace—make it last. My wants are running faster than I'd planned.” She was starting to heat and clench and burn.

Tucker groaned unevenly, his body rigid and quivering. He looked so ripe for the taking that she had to. She took his mouth, tasting his stark hunger, meeting it, as she opened her body to ease down on him slowly, so slowly. When she arched back, riveted, concentrating on the incredible pleasure, Tucker cradled her breasts. He plied them with heat and suction and the torrid uneven sweep of his breath.

The sudden burst of pleasure staked her high and hot and Tucker eased her down gently, until she was limp upon him, her face resting against his throat, feeling the racing pulse here. “Oh, darn,” she whispered. “I was going to make you tell me where my diary was.”

“You could try again.” Tucker eased her to her back and began moving slowly within her, plying her with little, tender kisses. His fingers moved in her scalp, the erotic motion soothing. His teeth caught her earlobe, his breath uneven and warm in the whorls of her ear. Carly began to stretch and heat and undulate beneath him, locking her legs around his, taking him deeper.

She forgot what good girls don't do and went for the primitive gusto, her fingertips digging into his back, placing her lips and teeth on his shoulder, urging him on with tiny nibbles. There were no words this time, only hot open kisses, bodies moving as one, rising into the pleasure that when it burst, seemed to last forever.

They lay in the morning shadows amid the rumpled sheets, hands soothing each other, hearts slowing their paces, lingering in the sweet aftermath. Tucker cuddled her closer, and she fitted her body close to his, rubbing his shin with her insole, her arm tight around him.

“Whatever you have to do, Carly, you go do it,” Tucker said quietly, firmly. “I'll always be here for you.”

She smoothed his broad chest, his heartbeat strong and sure beneath her palm. “I think I've done it. But don't think I'm finished with you. There are things I need to do to you—for you.”

She could feel Tucker's smile against her temple. “Likewise,” he murmured and turned to kiss her.

His finger traced the valentine on her chest, valid now that she had scored with Tucker. “Now what is the purpose of that big red heart on your chest?”

Carly took her time in answering. “I found your valentines and saw the pain in them. I thought I'd give you a very special one, one you'd remember more fondly.”

Tucker started to chuckle, and despite the heavy sated feeling of her body, Carly started to wrestle with him. Too easily pinned beneath her, Tucker lay still and suddenly quiet. His hands rose to smooth back her hair, his expression tender. “I've never even wanted another woman. There's been no one but you—ever. You take your time, honey, and decide just what you want.”

Carly eased down close to him, filled with peace as Tucker held her close. “We'll argue.”

“And make up. Take your time, Carly. Do what's right for you this time.”

 

On Valentine's Day, Tucker left work early. He carried his lunch bucket into the house, excited because every day with Carly was amazing.

Inside Anna Belle's house, which they shared now, Carly was striding back and forth in the living room, talking on the cell phone. Livingston was adding regular comments and squawking.

Carly was in a big deal, pushing her ideas on a hefty account. Tucker stood still, enjoying the sight—Carly, like a tigress, wrangling in the business world and loving it. He could tell she was winning by the smirk on her lips, that little flush on her cheeks.

Carly came to stand on tiptoe and kiss him, then leaned to snuggle against him. Her free hand smoothed his face and that soft, sweet look she slid him said he was loved well and good. Then she moved away, back into her business mode and Tucker took his shower.

In the steamy mirror, he considered his reflection, angling his face to see what Carly saw in him. He was pretty good-looking, he decided, full of happiness that she had brought into his life. He was comfortable as a “big stud, macho man, hot-blooded lover.” But the best label Carly had ever pasted on him—because he'd learned that in advertising, “buzz” words were a big deal—was “my guy.”

Tucker wasn't pushing for anything this time around, not even marriage. When Carly was ready, she'd develop a full-scale business project development plan. Equal opportunity between them had become her goal, and sometimes she just came after him full-steam. Other times, she was into seductive moves.

And to top that off, they were fishing buddies—no more men's-only days for him—unless Carly was busy reinstituting herself as the town legend. He rather enjoyed cooking for her business friends when they came to visit.

In full huntress mode, she'd be coming for him, wanting her diary. It was more of a game now, played between them, and he'd be ready, his body gearing up—because one of the benefits of having a businesswoman who celebrated her coups—was the fast, hot, sweet lovemaking. When the doorknob rattled, he smiled and put his shaving gear away. He slapped on the aftershave Carly loved; he wanted to be just as delectable as he could when she made her move. He wouldn't be too easy, because she liked the challenge, but he was at the ready. A man yielding to a woman had definite pluses.

“We got that account,” she reveled, a woman riding high on business triumph and power, and determined to get everything else she wanted, too. “Tucker, I am going to
make
you give up that diary. Where is it?”

Tucker braced himself as Carly hurled herself against him. He swooned a bit as her tiny kisses around his jaw almost sunk his plans to let her seduce him. He reached to the shelf high over her head and lowered a small box for her. “Anna Belle wanted you to have it when you were happy and knew what you wanted. You look happy now. I never read your diary. It was only a part of you that I wanted to keep.”

Carly held the box without opening it. She frowned and eased back from him and studied his chest. “I just wanted it because I didn't want you to know how I fantasized about loving you and you loving me…. You've shaved your chest, Tucker. There's a big red heart—”

When her brilliant smile shot up at him, Tucker got a little light-headed and managed unevenly, “It's a valentine. And it's all for you.”