Touch & Go (10 page)

Ava was trying not to let the kiss from that morning get too far into her head.

Just like she was trying not to get too attached to the sex, and she was trying not to let her heart get away from her, and she was trying not to let her friends figure out what was going on with her and Sam.

But juggling everything she wasn't supposed to let happen was becoming more and more of a challenge. Because that kiss,
God,
it was like Sam had given it to her with a piece of his soul. And the drugging intensity of connection flowing through it had made the sex that followed even more incredible. Powerful. Addictive. And having Sam moving inside her while he looked into her eyes the way he had was filling her heart more completely than he filled her body.

And all that overflowing emotion was searching for an outlet. Making her want to reach out and thread her fingers with his. Rest their hands on his thigh. Kiss his neck and—

“So, Ava, the bachelorette party tonight,” Tony said around an enormous mouthful of pastrami on rye and cutting into thoughts that were headed off the rails and fast. “Tell me you girls are going to get shitty and play a bunch of sexy girlfriend games. Have pillow fights in scanty lingerie. Play Truth or Dare and touch tongues—get your cherry Chapstick on.”

Cripes.
Tony. The guy was just so…Tony.

“Sorry, T. The lingerie theme was for the gifts, not the dress code. And we're going out, leaving the pillows at home.”

He stuffed too many fries into his mouth and wiped his fingers on a napkin that had lost the fight against dripping grease about six bites before.

“But you're doing the bar thing. With the games.”

“Yes. We've got a few games lined up.” Maggie had moaned and groaned about it, but the way Ava set it up, each of the twelve attendees got to pick a game for the party and Maggie got right of refusal for only one the whole night. As Ava saw it, the bachelorette party was part of the whole wedding experience and she hadn't wanted to skimp. So yeah, there were going to be drinks and games, a party bus and potentially a handful of incidents that Tony would give his right nut to witness firsthand. But fortunately, he was going to be off with the guys getting steaks and drinks and some other mellow stuff.

“Which games?”

Ava shook her head, because part of the fun was keeping the bride in the dark until the moment the game was sprung on her.

“Ehh, come on. Throw me a bone, Ave. Maggie's in the girls' room. Tyler's picking up his brother. Ford probably won't notice you talking since he got his new phone there. And Sam—well, my guess is Sam already knows, anyway.”

Sam shrugged one shoulder, casting her a lopsided grin from the other side of the table where he was safe from her leaning over and licking that sexy little twist off his lips. Because,
hot.
And sweet. And she loved him. And they were surrounded by friends.

But back on point, yeah. Sam knew.

She'd had to ask for help setting up the Google document and then he'd been there when she checked a couple of times to see how it was filling up.

Eyeing Tony, who was waiting like he knew she was going to crack, she finally did. “Fine. We've got a guess-who-brought-each-lingerie-gift game. We've got a guess-the-ex game, which I think we're going to have to modify to a name-that-date, because this is Maggie we're talking about and besides, Tyler—well, you know. We've got a quiz where she has to guess how Tyler answered a list of interview questions—”

Tony waved her off, looking annoyed. “Suck-for-a-Buck? Dollar Truth-or-Dare? Jesus, Ava, at least tell me you guys are auctioning garters. Girl like Maggie, there's some coin to be earned. Guys eat that shit up.”

They did. Ava had seen it more times than she could count, but Maggie had her limits and some of those games would be pushing past them. So they were going to build toilet-paper veils and stay out too late and make Maggie complete a list of tasks that ranged from convincing a guy to buy her a drink to working in a five-second pole dance. But anything that involved a stranger's teeth or tongue was off the table.

“Sorry, Tony,” she said, really close to meaning it.

Ford looked up from his new phone. “Tony, start buttering up Maggie now, and maybe she'll make Ava play a few of your favorite games when
she
gets married.”

Maggie was just walking back to the table, one brow pushed high as she dropped into her seat. “Whatever you're suggesting, if Tony's on board with it, I can't be bought. Ava, your future bachelorette party is safe with me.”

Ava gave Maggie an adoring smile, then turned to Sam ready to make a joke about the mellow night of dinner and drinks the guys had planned, when she caught sight of the frown etched across his face and a look she could only describe as deeply disturbed…fixed on her.

The night had been tame by bachelor party standards, but Sam sure as hell didn't have any complaints. And from the looks of Tyler—who'd managed to put away a steak so big, the guys had started taking side bets on whether he'd finish—he was feeling pretty replete himself. They'd just gotten another round of ridiculously good Booker's bourbon when Ava messaged him.

Again.

He couldn't help smiling, because while bachelor parties weren't really his thing, bachelorette parties—especially ones Ava attended—were fast becoming a favorite. She was having a wild time. She'd won some kind of pin-the-penis-on-the-stripper game that fortunately involved only a poster and some masking tape, but then lost at get-the-bride-to-the-church-on-time. He'd get the details on that one when he saw her later tonight.

And he would see her. Because in addition to the rapid-fire party updates coming in, the accompanying Slippery Nipple, Screaming Orgasm, Blow Job, and Sex-on-the-Beach cocktail pictorial had apparently been enough liquor to bust through the floodgates on Ava's fantasy vault.

The dirty secrets were landing approximately every fifteen minutes. Each one better than the last.

Which meant that just about the time he got his jock talked down, another text would roll in and he'd get a new insight into what got Ava hot. Hotter. Hottest.

And God help him, he liked.

His personal favorite…the lumberyard. Apparently his girl had a thing for the smell of cut wood and liked the idea of getting lost in one of those quiet corners amid the stacks of untreated cedar.

A close runner-up…the sawhorse. Specifically, him taking her from behind while she leaned over one. It didn't sound super cushy to him, but he was sure, given about thirty seconds of prep time, he'd be able to work up a solution to keep her comfortable while he made her scream.

Taking a sip of his drink, Sam waited until he was sure no eyes were on him, then checked the message—

Holy shit.

Choking and gasping, he doubled over, grateful to the aspirated bourbon burning the fuck out of his lungs for giving him a legitimate reason to shield the semi in his pants.

The guys were half leaning around him when Tyler's phone went off.

Distantly he heard him talking to Maggie, then less distantly he caught the change in stance, the subtle readjustment of his belt, and finally the red creeping up Tyler's face.

Oh yeah.
He recognized that look.

“Finish your drinks, men,” Tyler said, throwing his back in one gulp. “We're meeting the girls in ten minutes.”

Actual travel time turned out to be more like thirteen, but it wasn't for lack of trying. They'd had to wait for a cab, and there was Tony with his walnut bladder needing to stop at the little girls' room and Mitch holding the door for a shriveled little old couple who looked to be about a hundred and kind of made Sam's chest feel funny as he watched them. They were sweet and laughing and walking, holding on to each other like they might want to do it even if they didn't need to.

But now Sam was paying the driver and Tyler had already made a beeline for the front door and Mitch and Tony were joking about strip clubs, ensuring the female population gave them a wide berth. And Ford—
huh,
Ford was asking the bouncer about his phone as Sam walked past with a clap on the shoulder.

The club was a little more high energy than the places they usually hung out, but the vibe was right for the girls, the dance floor was filled, and he knew for a fact there was a back hall where he could press Ava for a few more details about that last text.

And then there she was, dancing with her group of friends, arms up in the air and that gorgeous smile curving her lips. It would have been even better if their group hadn't been surrounded by a group of guys four deep, but hell, what had he expected?

Cutting through the riffraff, Sam knew the second Ava saw him. Because suddenly she wasn't just one of the girls. She wasn't following the rhythm of their dance.

Her smoky eyes were locked on his, and her smile, while as bright as ever, held a secret that hadn't been there the moment before.

And then they were dancing together, finding a rhythm that was just their own. Edging toward that red-lit sign that read exit at the back of the club.

He couldn't get her there fast enough. Or maybe she'd been the one pulling him. But either way, the second they were out of the main room, Ava's back was against the wall, her lips open to the thrust of his tongue and her fingers knotted in his hair.

He needed this.
Christ,
it hadn't even been a day, so he didn't know how that was possible. But it was. Because getting Ava beneath his mouth had been like breaking the surface after too many minutes below the waves.

She tasted sweet, like the candy drinks she'd been texting him pictures of all night, and when they broke for air, he had to remind himself they weren't really alone. They'd come with two groups of friends, all of whom knew each other, and none of whom they wanted to have stumble around the corner and happen upon them with Sam's knee between Ava's legs and his hand half up her skirt.

So he took a step back, but not before Ava had caught him with her fingers hooked inside his belt.

“Ava,” he warned, casting a quick look in the direction from where they'd come before meeting that sexy stare again.

“I've seen you lead girls out of the bars and clubs too many times to count.”

Sam blinked, because it wasn't what he was expecting to come from Ava's mouth. The mouth that just seconds ago he'd been kissing like it was the only one he'd ever had. The only one he'd ever remember.

“Women you just met,” she went on, her eyes locked with his. “Women you only wanted one thing from.”

“I have.” There was nothing else he could say. It was the truth, and one that had never bothered him until that very moment.

“You'd be gone for a while. Minutes, sometimes an hour. And then suddenly you'd be back. Alone, or not. I always wondered what you were doing.” She let out a quiet laugh and looked away. “I mean I knew what you were doing. Everyone knew.”

“Ava,” he said, the apology he rationally knew he didn't owe there on his tongue, trying to find a way out.

Only then Ava was looking back at him, at his chest and mouth, and finally his eyes. “I want you to show me what you would do with them. I want you to do it with me.”

Ava's body was humming. Alert, awake. Alive.

Giving Sam's belt a tug, she tried to pull him closer, tipping her hips to meet him halfway.

Only instead of the sweet contact she'd been craving all night, Sam pulled back, firmly extracting her fingers from where they'd hooked over his buckle.

“No, you don't.” Sam was shaking his head. “That's the Sex-on-the-Beach talking, Ave. Come on, how about we catch up with our friends before they start looking for us?”

She blinked. Because,
what?

He was turning her down over a few drinks?

“Sam, it's not the Sex-on-the-Beach talking or the Slippery Nipples, which I actually liked even better.” She pulled her bottom lip through the light clasp of her teeth, looking up at him suggestively before adding, “You should really try them.”

Sam's eyes darkened as they dropped to her chest, to her nipples inevitably on display through the filmy top she wore. Though seriously, this close to Sam and with the thoughts she'd had running through her head all night, she could have been wearing her down parka and he'd probably still have been able to see the hard peaked evidence of her want.

“Even so. It's not a good idea. Let's go.”

But when he tried to pull her back toward the main club, she dug in her heels, not understanding. This was Sam, and the guy was notoriously un-choosy about hooking up in inappropriate places.

“Why not?”

Sam raked a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the motion. “You don't want to, Ava. It's not you.”

And then she was wondering if maybe the drinks were talking after all, because at any other time in her life, if Ava had had this little fantasy window with Sam, no way would she have rocked the boat. But tonight, suddenly she wanted Sam to know something.

She knew who she was. And what she wanted.

Now, whether he wanted to give it to her or not? Well, that was something else.

“I know this much…it's my fantasy, Sam,” she countered. “I want to know what it's like to be one of them.”

One of the women he'd been so immediately caught up in, he couldn't wait to get somewhere truly private.

Sam swore, and then he was back in her face, closer than he'd been before. “And maybe it's my fantasy that you're different from them.”

Her chin pulled back. “What does that even mean?”

She wasn't sure, but it looked like Sam's jaw was about to snap.

“It means there's a reason I hook up with them outside a bar or in a back hall or a bathroom or wherever…instead of taking them home with me. It means you could never know what it was like to be one of them, because this isn't just sex and you fucking know it. It means I couldn't pretend to use you, even if I wanted to.
It means don't ask me to treat you like some woman who didn't mean anything to me, because you aren't and I can't!
”

Whatever fight Ava had been working up drained out of her with Sam's words, and for a minute all she could do was stand there and stare. The words he'd said—they were everything she'd never let herself dream to hear.

She stepped in close to his body and all that vibrating tension, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to her favorite spot at the center of his chest for a beat before peering up at him. “I don't want to pretend we don't mean something to each other, Sam.” She didn't want to have to pretend at all. But despite wanting to take Sam's impassioned words as some declaration of forever, she knew she couldn't.

“I only wondered what—I thought it would be sexy. A little dangerous, maybe. Exciting. And because it's you—
because of what's between us,
Sam—that's the only reason I feel safe enough to admit it. I trust you with all the things I could never even whisper to someone else. But believe me, fantasy or not, if you're not into it, I'm not interested.”

Sam's arms closed around her in a lingering hug, almost like the ones they'd been sharing through most of their lives. Almost, except for the way he turned his face into her hair and let his hands slide over the curve of her ass.

That was a recent change.

“A little dangerous?” he asked, his words low and seductive. “That's what you want?”

Suddenly Ava felt uneasy. Self-conscious.

But tonight she was being honest. Almost completely.

“Maybe I do.”

Sam found the bottom of her skirt, reaching between her legs from behind as he took her mouth with his. Giving her his tongue.

The kiss was hot and possessive. It belonged behind closed doors, or at least away from where any of their friends could find them by simply walking around the corner. But Sam wasn't kissing her like he was rushed or he had something to hide. He was kissing her slowly. Boldly.

Stroking over her panties, he teased her until she was clinging to him, her breath coming in short, ragged puffs.

“Anyone could see us like this, Ava,” he murmured against her mouth. “You ready for that?”

“No.” But if it meant getting more of what Sam was giving her right then, then it was a risk she was willing to take.

“Neither am I.”

Sam smoothed her skirt back down and then took her hand, leading her farther down the hall toward a door with an illuminated red exit light over it. He was taking her out back. To the alley maybe, where he might—

They cut left where another hallway intersected, leading back to an office space, storage, and single door marked employees restroom.

Sam tried the knob and when the door swung open, he ushered Ava into the small, neat room with black walls. There was a single stall, a rickety chair, and a wall-hung sink with a mirror over it—not exactly the Ritz, but with Sam backing her against the door and throwing the flimsy lock, it was everything she needed.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, her excitement ramping up with every additional second they spent in the forbidden room.

Sam winked, reaching under her skirt and then slipping her panties off in one deft move. “We're going to be very quiet, so whoever happens to be working in that office or walking by doesn't hear something they feel the need to investigate.”

“Quiet.” She nodded. She could do it. She hoped.

Sliding the chair from the corner to Ava's side, he ran his hand over her thigh. “Put your foot on the seat, Ava.”

Her breath caught, but already he was guiding her into the position he wanted her, and she was letting him. And then he was going to his knees in front of her, pushing her skirt completely above her hips, and with one last word, “Quiet,” he kissed her in the place she'd been waiting for him to all night.

Ava was not a quiet girl. Just one of the many new and wonderful things the last week had taught him. That and when he put his mouth to it, he could make her come twice in less than five minutes flat.

Something he'd put to the test in the back bathroom of the club right before he planted a silver-dollar-sized hickey on the inside of her thigh, a bare inch above the bottom hem of her skirt.

The girl had wanted a little danger—well, that was about as much as the part of him that was practically hardwired to protect her could handle. The bathroom sex, easy enough. Plant a few seeds about the need to be quiet, when he knew she couldn't be. Put her back against the door so there was no chance of anyone actually getting in. And as for someone hearing, there'd have to be someone out there who cared for it to matter. Not likely. Which left them with the hickey. It would keep her off balance for the duration of the night, keep her aware of how her skirt fell, so she didn't give away the love bite he hadn't been able to resist putting on her skin. Well, that and the panties he hadn't given back to her.

So call it
danger light;
call it whatever. It had done the trick, getting Ava off in no small way. Which worked for him. Along with knowing her panties were tucked in his front pocket and knowing he'd left a mark on her, and knowing it was the trust and bond between them that allowed her to ask him for something she'd never been able to even whisper to another guy.

Shit.
That worked for him maybe better than it should.

But it didn't matter, because then they were back on the dance floor together with all their friends while songs about fresh-cut grass and ice-cold beer, and happiness, and being on top of the world pumped through the speakers. Ava's hips were swaying, her arms overhead half making him worry about the hickey he should probably be feeling a little guiltier about than he did.

And after that they were on their way home, piled into a cab, too many people talking at once. Ava in his lap, because she was so petite and she always sat like that when they were stuffed in like sardines. And he was trying to figure out how it was possible for her to be laughing and rambling on like she always did when he was hard against her ass, ready to bust a nut thinking about what he was going to do to her once they were alone. For real alone.

When he was nailing her to the wall while her fingernails dug into his back and his name was the only word she could manage.

And somehow they made it out of the cab without the flag post in his pants giving them away. They made it past the security door. They made it up three stairs before Ava looked back at him over her shoulder and bit her lip. Before his hands were coasting up her thighs, pushing her skirt up and over the taut globes of her ass. Before she'd stopped climbing the stairs altogether and was rocking back into his hips.

Before he undid his fly with hands that were shaking with need, pulled out the hard-on he was pretty sure was going to kill him, and—
holy fuck
—

Sam jerked back, his gut climbing up his throat as he realized he'd been about to drive into Ava without a condom.