Delicious Do-Over Read online

  “So you got a tattoo?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “No, I got drunk first.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Hindsight’s a beautiful thing, huh?” He worked his hand underneath one of the rearranged triangles, and cupped her bare breast. He must have felt the quickening beat of her heart, and her nipples were still achingly hard. But he simply rested his hand there as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “I was virtually a stranger,” she said, trying to make sense of his behavior. “You didn’t strike me as being that—” She stopped, appalled at what she’d been about to say.

  “Foolish?”

  “I only meant that you’d seemed more mature than the other guys,” she said, her eyes closing as she leaned into his palm, aching for him to do something more. “How do you expect my brain and mouth to work in sync with you touching me like that?”

  “Okay, I’ll stop.” Clearly trying to suppress a smile, he laid back and folded his hands on his belly. “Better?”

  She tugged at her dress, making sure her breasts were covered. The friction of the sateen fabric rubbing her aroused nipples made her tremble. Hiding her reaction, she retied the halter at the back of her neck. “Much better,” she agreed. “Thank you.” She looked at him with every ounce of innocence she could muster.

  It was totally worth it when his jaw dropped and he whined like a kid who’d dropped his ice cream cone.

  Good. She’d surprised him. “Now,” she said calmly, rolling onto her side and placing her hand on his chest. The tips of her middle and ring fingers grazed his flat brown nipple and he tensed. “What were you saying?”

  “You expect me to be able to think when you’re touching me like that?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, coaxing the hard brown nub to life. “Want me to stop?”

  “Hell, no.” He moved his hands and clasped them behind his head, his mouth sporting a half grin.

  This was her chance. She’d wanted to map his body with her hands, feel the hard muscle bunch beneath her palms. She really liked that his skin was so smooth and sleek. Only a small patch of hair arrowed down below his navel and disappeared underneath the waistband of his swim trunks.

  Her gaze lingered there, her breath stuttering into short jerks when she saw that he was getting hard. She blinked and refocused her attention on his chest. His nipples weren’t flat anymore. They were like small saucers holding tiny brown pearls.

  She swallowed, and moistened her lips, the sudden realization that they had parted forcing her gaze back to his face. He was watching her with an intensity that made her want to look away, lie back, let him take the lead.

  Instead, she moved her hand down his chest, over his belly and cupped the hardness straining his trunks. He hissed out a breath as she molded her palm to his arousal. Her hand shook slightly, but Rick didn’t seem to mind.

  He briefly closed his eyes, and then opened them to slits, his dilated pupils eclipsing the flecks of gold and green that had glinted with humor and lust only seconds ago. When he moved his hands from behind his head, she’d expected him to reach for her, but instead he fisted them at his sides. He clearly liked having her touch him, liked that she’d taken control.

  To her amazement, she found that she liked it, too. The freedom to learn the contours of his body, to slide her hands anywhere she pleased, was almost dizzying. His skin was taut and as smooth as a marble sculpture. He had a couple of scars, a small one at the top of his rib cage, and a thin longer version at the side of his waist.

  She came up on her knees beside him and traced the mark with her finger, then followed the muscular definition of his ridged belly. When she retraced the path with soft slow kisses, he moved his hips, just a bit, enough to let her know that he wanted her mouth lower.

  Oh, God, she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  Instead she stayed focused on his belly, kissing the warm smooth skin under his rib cage, then over his ribs and lingering on each nipple, using her tongue and teeth just as he had done to her.

  Tension seemed to thrum through his body. He moaned. His chest heaved, then came down with a small shudder. Warmed by his response, she trembled a little, too, knowing she’d done that to him. Encouraged, she stroked his belly, then ran her palm over the long length of his hard penis. The barrier of the trunks frustrated her. She slipped her fingers underneath the waistband, brushing the silky smooth crown and then retreated.

  Murmuring her name, Rick threaded a hand through her hair. He cupped her nape, forcing her to meet him halfway as he curled up to kiss her mouth, to push his tongue between her lips. His other hand covered hers, pressed it down, increasing the pressure of her palm on his erection.

  Abruptly he released her hair, released her hand and caught her by the shoulders. In the next second, he had her on her back. He pulled down the top of her dress, greedily suckled one nipple and then the other. Her hair had fallen in a tangle over her shoulder, getting in the way. He gathered a handful, brought it to his face, inhaled deeply, then let the strands sift through his fingers. Gently he smoothed her hair aside, then kissed her exposed shoulder. He leaned back, and simply looked at her, her face, her throat, her breasts, his damp lips curving in a slow dangerous smile.

  Their eyes met and she stared at him, unable to look away, even when he slid his hand under her dress, up the outside of her thigh. He could do anything to her, she realized, and she wouldn’t stop him. The thought should’ve been enough to alarm her. She simply wasn’t that comfortable with sex. She didn’t like that she was inhibited, or that she couldn’t be more casual about it, but wishing didn’t chase the self-consciousness away.

  “Take off your dress,” he whispered.

  She held her breath as he skimmed his palm over her hip, pausing at the narrow elasticized band of her silk panties. She exhaled when he withdrew his hand. “Will you take that off for me?” he asked again, and kissed the tops of her breasts.

  She glanced at the window, at the open drapes. The golden glow of the late afternoon sun filled the room.

  “No one can see inside, but I’ll close the drapes if you want,” he said, his voice a low seductive murmur near her ear.

  What she wanted was for him to peel off her dress, and not have to strip while he watched. “Maybe just a little,” she said, and sat up, intent on doing it herself.

  He caught her hand. “You’re nervous.”

  “No, I’m not,” she denied a bit too hotly, and scooted off the bed so he wouldn’t see her blush.

  She pulled the drapes closed halfway, while trying to hold her dress up with her free hand. He was right. No one could see inside. But she wasn’t keen on having so much light in the room. She turned and noticed that a shaft of sunlight fell across the bed, and she went back to fussing with the drapes until she got it just so.

  When she looked at him again, she saw that he was trying to control a smile and she shrunk inside. How could a man like him be interested in her at all? She wanted to disappear. Grab her purse, run back to her room and shut out the world that she couldn’t quite seem to fit in.

  “Lindsey, hey.” He was up and off the bed in seconds.

  She blinked at him, not sure if she’d unwittingly said something horrible out loud.

  He put his arms around her and hugged her against his chest. “How about we look at the room service menu?”

  His arousal prodded her belly, but that was changing. He wasn’t so hard anymore.

  “Why? I thought we were…” She moistened her lips. “Going in another direction.”

  “I want to make love to you, Lindsey.” He drew back to look at her. “I couldn’t lie about that if I wanted to.”

  “But you’ve lost interest,” she said, miserable, and unable to meet his eyes.

  He nudged her chin up. “You think I don’t want you? Seriously?”

  Anything she could think to say would make her sound like she was twelve. Heck, she’d read online how even twelve-year-olds w
ere sexting. Great. That made her the emotional equivalent of ten. She gave a dismissive shrug. “If you’d rather eat, that’s okay. Call room service.”

  Rick sighed. “I want to make love to you. But not until you’re ready.”

  “Ready? It isn’t as if this is our first time.” She sounded properly indignant for someone who was about to shrivel up and die of humiliation.

  He studied her for a moment. “You’re right,” he said, a thin smile curving his mouth. “I’m punchy. Not enough sleep.”

  “We could take a nap before dinner.”

  “Yeah, we could.” He leisurely rubbed her arm, then brought her hand up for a quick kiss. “Sound good to you?”

  She nodded, feeling silly for reacting to the casual touch. The thing was, she really did want him to make love to her. She was still hypersensitive, aching for the feel of his hands and mouth. She simply wasn’t sure about taking the lead. Which was horrifically pitiful. He’d only wanted her to pull off her dress, not do a striptease. Maybe.

  “You turn down the bed,” he said. “I’ll close the drapes the rest of the way.”

  “Not on my account,” she said quickly.

  “I can’t sleep with this much light.”

  She neatly folded the thick floral coverlet to the foot of the bed, suspicious that he was darkening the room because he’d sensed her edginess. The skittish behavior had to stop. She waited until he ducked into the bathroom, then quickly pulled off her dress and slipped between the sheets.

  10

  RICK SPLASHED HIS FACE with cold water, dried off and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair had gotten wet and he slicked it back. He checked his chin and jaw. Still smooth from his recent shave. Probably should’ve gotten a haircut last week though. He never thought of those kind of things until it was really bugging him, or he was about to get on a plane to visit the folks. His mother and sister always nagged him about his long hair.

  Once he’d made the mistake of wearing a ponytail to the house. His brothers hadn’t stopped giving him crap about that for a week, and their good-natured arm-wrestling contests had ended with four broken fingers and a shattered lamp that had belonged to his grandmother. He did feel bad about the old lamp. Both his brothers deserved wearing splints for three weeks.

  He straightened, glanced down at his trunks and rubbed his cock. One more ignored hard-on and he was likely to bust something else. He had to start using his head. Lindsey was fine as long as he kept the ball rolling between them. She wasn’t good at initiating or being thrust in the spotlight. He was still learning her, and she was certainly different. The only woman he’d been with in a long time that he actually could take home to meet the folks.

  The rogue thought stopped him.

  He wasn’t ready to do anything like that. Hell, he never considered getting serious with anyone. He still had too much to do. Like figure out how he could shave an ounce off the next generation surfboard. They’d gotten lighter, smaller, more adept. Wally thought he was crazy, and maybe Rick had gotten too ambitious, possibly even too desperate….

  Yeah, he was crazy. A smart guy would sit back and enjoy life. It wasn’t as if he had to worry about ending up in a four-wall box for eight hours every day and answering to a boss if he didn’t come up with a new mind-blowing discovery.

  He shook his head at his reflection. No more thinking. Lindsey couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. This week was about reconnecting, having fun, having sex. Hopefully.

  He hung the towel on the rack, used some mouth-wash, then left the bathroom, hoping she’d still be there. Though not dark, the room was dim, and it took a second for his eyes to adjust.

  She was already tucked in, lying on her side, the sheet and blanket pulled up to her chin. He smiled as he rounded the bed, surprised when out of the corner of his eye he saw her dress draped over the arm of the chair. His heart slammed his chest.

  He hesitated, staring at the back of her head, the mass of silky blond hair, trying to decide if he should take off his trunks. Damn, he wanted to slide his naked body between the sheets and press his cock against that firm sweet ass. Wanted her long shapely legs wrapped around his hips. He wanted to watch those big blue eyes lose the panic and fill with satisfaction when he slid inside of her and made her come.

  His thumbs were already hooked in his waistband. He inhaled deeply, waited for his head to clear. Leaving on his trunks, he got under the covers, watching her, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She stirred slightly, but kept her face averted. He moved closer, sliding an arm around her waist, and smiled a little because she still wore her panties. He tightened his arm and hauled her body against his, pleased that she hadn’t tensed.

  “Are you awake?” he whispered, and kissed the back of her shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “Should I set an alarm?” He stroked her belly, and then cupped her breast. Her nipple was firm and tight.

  “I don’t see why.”

  He buried his face in the side of her neck, letting the scent of her sweet skin fill his nostrils. Naturally he was hard again. Not a damn thing he could do about it. He would wait for her to make the first move. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, his fingers flexing, unconsciously kneading her breast.

  She made a soft sound, a quiet moan of pleasure that sent a shaft of heat straight to his cock. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. If she turned around, if she tried to touch him, that was it. He’d coax those panties off her. Find out if she was as tight a fit as he remembered.

  She moved, as if trying to get comfortable, and snuggled her ass more firmly against his cock. She stilled suddenly, no doubt having discovered how hard he was.

  Screw it. He was taking off his trunks. He started to roll over, when she shifted, moved away and then turned over to face him. She closed in, and pressed her breasts against his chest.

  They both shuddered.

  She gave him a hesitant smile. “Can we sleep like this?”

  Not trusting his voice, he could only nod, and dropped an arm around her.

  LINDSEY AWOKE, surprised that she’d actually fallen asleep. The room was darker now but she didn’t need to see to know that Rick was there with her. Half her body was draped over him. Her naked body. His naked body. No, he still had on swim trunks. She still wore panties.

  She gathered her hair at the back of her neck, afraid the ends would tickle him awake as she stretched up to see the bedside clock. It was nine-thirty. Wow, she really had slept. Had he been asleep the whole time, she wondered, as she settled back down. Her nipple grazed his hard chest, and her entire body reacted with a shiver of pure longing.

  His head jerked, and she thought she’d woken him. But he didn’t open his eyes, only scraped his jaw against the pillow, so maybe inadvertently she had tickled him. He still had one arm around her, or rather she had it pinned to the mattress with her body. She didn’t dare move to free him. She wanted to simply stare at him without being self-conscious about it.

  A faint stubble of beard had begun to shadow his jaw and made the dimple in his chin look deeper. His hair had fallen back and she thought she saw a tiny hole in his earlobe. She hadn’t noticed him wearing an earring. Peering closer she discovered that it was a tiny freckle.

  She liked his hair. It was darker than it looked under the interesting blend of sun-streaked highlights. She counted three shades of gold and mused how unfair it was that women had to pay so much money for the same effect. But of everything she admired about his face, she liked his mouth the best. It was wide, his lower lip slightly fuller than his top one, and his smile…oh, his smile actually had the power to make her weak in the knees.

  “Are you hungry?”

  At the unexpected sound of his voice, she jumped. His eyes were still closed, but those lips she’d been staring at lifted in a small smile that said he knew he’d startled the heck out of her.

  “How long have you been awake?” she asked accusingly.

  He opened one eye and squinted at her.
“Long enough,” he said, and tried to curl his arm around her waist. “Ouch. My arm’s still asleep.”

  She snorted. “You get no sympathy from me.”

  Rick eyed her with amusement as he flexed his arm, made a fist with his hand and then relaxed it. “Wait ’til I get some blood circulating. We’ll see who needs sympathy.”

  Her stomach chose that second to rumble noisily.

  She blushed, then grinned at his comical expression.

  “Sorry, I didn’t get that,” he said, lifted the covers and pressed an ear to her belly.

  She gasped, laughed, shoved at his shoulder. “Stop it.”

  “Shh, we’re trying to have a conversation down here.”

  “Rick,” she drawled out in a warning when he slid lower.

  He turned his head and kissed her belly. Then kissed her through her panties. When he got to the juncture of her thighs, she stiffened, but didn’t stop him. Only watched, waited, her heart pounding so hard she feared her body might come off the mattress.

  He lifted his head, trailed the tip of his finger along the elastic around her leg, then slowly slipped it underneath. Instinctively she squeezed her thighs together. He hesitated, only for a second, and as his gaze found hers, he gently nudged her legs apart and slid his long finger between the folds of her sex.

  Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back, forced herself to breathe evenly, ordered herself to relax. She was nervous. Not because of what he was doing but because of the proximity of his mouth. She knew she wasn’t ready for that, and if he headed in that direction, well she simply didn’t know what…

  He touched her clit and she bit off a gasp, clutching at the sheets.

  Shuddering, she stared at him, unable to make out his expression in the dimness of the room.

  He moved up so that his mouth hovered over hers. His hand stayed cupped over the damp crotch of her panties. “What do you want, Lindsey?” He slowly rubbed his palm over her panties, over her clit. “Tell me.”

  Overwhelming need swept through her body. Desperate for his touch, she shivered. “I want you to make love to me.”