Engaging the Bachelor (Pulse) (4 page)

“Yeah.”

“You kept it all these years.” He shook his head. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s a perfectly good sweater, Carson.” Her long hair fell forward, shadowing her face as she examined the hoodie. “Why would I throw it out?”

“Are you some kind of hoarder?” Or did the sweater have meaning to her, and she couldn’t bring herself to toss it? Had she been thinking of him over the years as much as he’d been thinking of her?

She held it out to him. “You can have it back.”

He took it from her and lifted it. It looked worn and well used. “I’ve grown since I was nineteen. This isn’t going to fit. Here, you wear it.” He tugged it over her head, and she slipped into it. It was big and baggy and she looked absolutely adorable in it. “It looks better on you.”

A light pink tinge brushed her cheek. “Let me grab Gracie’s leash, and we’ll go.”

At the sound of her name, Gracie’s tail wagged. “You like that, do you, girl?” Carson asked, petting her head.

Gemma came back and ran her hand over Gracie’s neck, hooking the leash to her collar. She bent at the waist, the fantasy inspiring position messing with his last working brain cell, and for a brief moment their fingers connected. His glance shot to hers to find her staring back, and the mood changed, shifted. He leaned closer, listened to the variations in her breathing. Fuck, he needed to kiss her.

She straightened, breaking the connection, the moment. “All set?

“Yeah. But isn’t there something you need to do first?”

She cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes in warning. “Such as?”

“Don’t you have a date to break?”

Confusion moved over her face, then she nodded quickly. “Right, I forgot.” She grabbed her phone from her purse, and he stood back watching carefully as her fingers raced over the screen. “All good,” she said, dropping it on to the table.

“Should I expect a jealous boyfriend to come rushing in here after me?” He flexed his bicep.

She laughed. “I’m pretty sure it won’t come to that. Nor do I want it to.”

“Why not?”

“Are you forgetting how much little old Gracie freaked you out?”

“Pit bull, Gemma. Sharp teeth.”

“So you’re, uh…” She crinkled her nose and pointed to his crotch. “Feeling better?”

“I think the swelling is down.” At least in his balls.

“I really am sorry.” She frowned. “I honestly didn’t expect her to do that. I think you were just standing at the right position on the steps for her height.”

“More like the wrong position.” She laughed and opened the door. Pulling himself together, he followed her out, and she locked up behind them. “I think she was just a dog being a dog. She needed to check me out first, make sure I didn’t have any bad intentions.” Which of course he did. Gracie wagged her tail. “See, she agrees.”

He brushed his hand along her back. Sweet pit bull, Gracie. She was all kinds of contradictions, much like her owner. Tough as nails one minute, soft and vulnerable the next. Gemma could act the aloof bad girl all she wanted, but she was forgetting who she was trying to fool. He’d been there that night she gave herself to him. He’d glimpsed the scared and lonely girl behind the mask. One who’d just needed to be held—by him—and then let her vulnerability show through.

Gemma smiled. “I can’t believe she likes you.”

“At least that makes one of you,” he teased.

“I never said I didn’t like you. I said I wasn’t sleeping with you.”

He arched a brow. “So you like me, then?”

“Are you twelve?”

He laughed. “So, that’s a yes?”

“I don’t even know you.” She made her way down the stairs.

“We can rectify that.”

“How, by having sex again?”

“What is it with you and sex?” He scoffed. “That’s all you can seem to talk about tonight. Sex. Sex. Sex. One track mind, much?” She punched him in the arm, and he winced. “Why again is it you don’t want to have sex?”

“Because we can’t.”

“Can’t?” He laughed. “Pretty sure we can.”

“How about this then. I don’t want to.”

He nodded, even though he didn’t believe her. “Okay.” When she’d come on to him that night, she needed something from him, something more than sex. He spent ten years wondering about that, and would get to the bottom of it, eventually.

Her gaze shot to his, examining his face carefully.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You look like you’ve got something to say, Gemma.”

“I do. Last one to the park is a rotten egg.”

He laughed. “Now who’s twelve?”

Gracie barked, and Gemma took off running with her. Carson stood there, his gaze locked on Gemma’s sweet ass, one that he’d be cradling later tonight if he got his way—and he usually did. She bolted across the street to the dark park, lit only by a few scattered lanterns. As tired as he was, he picked up the pace and ran after her.

She was laughing and breathless by the time he caught up. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in tight. She instantly sobered, the air around them charging. He looked over her face, taking in the exhaustion backlighting her dark eyes. Shit. He’d been so hell-bent on spending time with her, he hadn’t stopped to consider her situation. She’d probably been on her feet all day.

“If you’re tired, we can cancel,” he said. “Maybe I should go home and get that good night’s sleep you suggested.”

“Forget it, Sailor Boy.” She poked his chest. “You’re here now, and we’re getting this over with. Besides I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Okay, but how about we skip the restaurant, do something a little more laid back.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Such as?”

“I can grab a pizza and we can go back to your place.”

Her lips twisted. “Better yet, let’s go back to yours.”

“Fine. I’ll drive.”

“I’ll take my own car. I’ll follow you, since I don’t know the way.”

He grinned, knowing full well what she was up to—and that she knew the way. If they went to her place, she couldn’t run away. From his place, however, she could once again sneak out under the cover of darkness.

Maybe he’d need those handcuffs after all.

Chapter Four

Gemma shoved her car into third, grinding the old gears as she sped along the quiet streets, following Carson back to his parents’ summer home. To them it might be a cottage, but to her it was a mansion. With a view of the ocean and its own private beach, it was one of the nicest places in the Hamptons.

She knew the way to the cottage, of course. She’d only fibbed because she didn’t want him to know she’d thought about him over the years. Many times while out for a drive, she found herself cruising past his place, wondering what had happened to the boy she’d spent a few precious hours with. But she didn’t want him to know any of that, or give him the impression that she was interested in any sort of relationship.

Sex, on the other hand…

He pulled into the driveway of her favorite pizza place, and she waited in her car while he ran in to pick up the order. She jacked up the tunes and beat her fingers on her steering wheel as Carson darted inside. Her gaze moved over his body, and even though she’d told him she wasn’t having sex with him, she was pretty sure she was going to.

Why am I so weak when it comes to him?

He came back out carrying a huge cardboard box and a bag with their drinks. Her stomach chose that moment to growl, and she was grateful for the quiet evening. After a long day, getting dressed up to go to a fancy restaurant didn’t sound all that fun. This was way better, and she was happy he’d suggested it.

She jammed her stick shift back into gear and followed him home. A long curving driveway led to the front of the house, but he drove around back and stopped in the rear lot near a three-car garage. She parked behind him, her car positioned and ready for takeoff. Carson walked to her door to meet her, and she climbed out and locked up behind herself.

He grinned. “I don’t think anyone is going to steal your car.”

Leaving her sweater and purse in the car, she dropped her key into her pocket and ran her hand along the car’s spray painted hood. “Habit. Plus look at it, it’s an antique.”

“Oh, it’s an antique all right.” Laughing, he nudged her into motion with his shoulder. “Come on, let me feed you.”

She fell into step with him and walked along the path to the back entrance. Memories from the last time she’d been here, when Carson had saved her from the frat boy who’d spiked her drink, flashed through her mind. She recalled the fight between the two, the crash of furniture, and the gorgeous hand carved model sailboat that had broken under the other boy’s body weight. But what she remembered the most was the way Carson had cared for her—the first man in her life to display protectiveness.

Pushing down those emotions, she turned her focus to the lit pool. It looked so inviting—a far cry from the cement view from her Brooklyn apartment. She’d told Carson she was here for the summer, and that was true. But she hadn’t admitted that her lease expired at the end of August and she wouldn’t be renewing. Rent had gone up and she needed to find another place, a cheaper one. If she didn’t move more jewelry and increase inventory, she was going to end up crashing at her mother’s. A sigh fluttered past her lips. She loved her mother, she really did, but she’d rather sleep with Gracie in her doghouse than move in with her mom and her flavor of the month.

“You want to swim?” Carson asked. He touched her forehead. “You feel warm, feverish almost.” Yeah, she was hot, and they both knew the real reason behind her flushed skin. “So, what do you say?” he asked.

She shook her head. “As nice as that sounds, I don’t have a suit.”

“You look to be about the same size as Crystal. I’m sure she has something in the pool house that would fit you.”

Who the hell was Crystal? Girlfriend? Wife? Her glance fell to his ring finger, and found it empty. These days, however, that meant nothing. And come to think of it, she really didn’t know that much about him. He could be a total womanizer with a family on the side. “Crystal?”

“My younger sister.”

Ah. “No, that’s okay.”

“Fine then. No suit.”

He set the pizza and bag on the long patio table, grabbed her by the waist, and in one smooth movement, jumped into the pool, taking her in with him.

She came up sputtering, and he swam away before she could give him another knuckle punch.

“Carson,” she yelled, dragging her hair off her face. “What the hell?”

“You said you wanted to swim.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to do it with my clothes on.”

He grinned and pushed his hair off his face. “It’s not too late to take them off.”

“You’re going to pay for this.” She dove under the water to go after him, but when she reached him, he dipped below the surface, and slid his hand around her back. He dragged her close, and her hard nipples brushed over his chest. Warm and wicked sensations moved through her, settling deep between her legs.

They came up for air, both panting heavily, but she was sure it had nothing to do with holding their breaths. Strong fingers went to her face, and he lightly brushed her cheek, pushing her wet hair away. His gaze settled on her mouth, his thumb caressing her bottom lip, the look in his eyes ravenous.

“Carson.”

“Yeah.”

“We should get out.”

“Okay,” he said, but neither moved.

The cool water seeped into her skin, but she felt nothing but warmth. A tightness lodged in her throat at the way he was touching her, and a restless ache trickled through her blood. She swayed against him, her synapses no longer firing. He lowered his head, his lips close to hers, and she took deep choppy breaths, waiting for contact…wishing for it. His scent overwhelmed her, and in that instant, she had a brief moment of clarity. This was Carson she was messing with, the one guy she knew she should steer clear of. Apprehension surged inside her, the warning bells ringing loud and clear.

He has the right ammunition to hurt me.

She wanted to say something, to put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, before she found herself in an emotional place she had no intention of going—ever—but the only thing that came out of her mouth was an unintelligible moan.

He must have taken that as a sign of consent. Long fingers slid through her hair as his mouth found hers. The brush of his tongue over her bottom lip swept away her protest, and the second both lips connected with hers, she broke and nearly shattered under his touch, wanting this, wanting him. Right here, right now.

She leaned into him, enjoying his hardness against her softness, and he backed her up until she was pressed against the side of the pool. The kiss deepened, quickened, his tongue sliding in to find hers, a hot discovery that seemed to trigger a reaction from him.

“Christ,” he panted. “I waited ten long years to do that again, and believe me, it was worth it.” His tongue slid over his bottom lip. “Sweet. So fucking sweet. Way better than I ever remembered.”

Her nipples poked through her lace bra, and she pulled her T-shirt away from her skin. It made a sucking sound that drew his attention. He glanced down, his eyes watchful, famished, as a telltale groan crawled out of his throat. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

He touched her shirt, rubbed the material between his fingers. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

Their gazes met, held, the unasked question lingering in the air. He wanted her naked beneath him. No questions about it. Well, hell, she wanted that, too.

“That’s probably a good idea.” She let her gaze slide to the pool house. “Do you think your sister has some clothes in there that might fit me?”

He exhaled a shuddery breath because they both knew what she was really asking. His arms went around her waist, and he lifted her clear out of the water and onto the concrete deck. She climbed to shaky feet as he hoisted himself out and slid up her body. His wet button-down shirt clung to muscles that had shaped and grown over the years, and her fingers itched, desperate to touch him, to feel his nakedness.

Strong hands captured hers and gave a tug. She blindly followed him, so aroused and needy she was ready to go anywhere he wanted to take her. Water dripped from their clothes and soaked the decking as they made their way to the pool house, their bodies close, touching intimately, an electric exchange of heat sizzling in the air.

Gemma took deep breaths, her mind spinning, her body wound tight. After ten long years, was this really happening again? Carson stopped at the door and reached overhead. He surfed along the wooden frame and came back with a key. He slipped it into the lock, jiggled it a bit, and ushered her inside. A quiver moved through her at the sound of the bolt sliding into place behind him. Her breath caught as he locked the world out and her in.

She glanced around and memories bombarded her. Her gaze raced over the shelves filled with neatly folded towels. Lifejackets hung from the numerous hooks, and against the wall there was a mocha-colored sofa flanked by two wooden chairs, the seats water damaged from years of wet bathing suits. The last time she’d been in here, the place had no furniture, no soft sofa for her first intimate encounter. Her gaze fell to the floor, to the spot Carson had once taken her. He came up behind her, his hands on her arms, rubbing them to create heat as his body pressed insistently against hers.

The warmth of his breath elicited a shiver as his mouth went to her ear. “We can go inside, to my bedroom. My folks aren’t expected to arrive until next week.”

“No,” she said. Somehow, inside felt too personal. Being out here in the pool house, nowhere near the soft bed that held his scent, would allow her to keep a measure of emotional distance. She hoped.

He pulled her wet hair off her neck, and his soft lips found a spot that rendered her nearly senseless. A shiver moved through her, but he must have mistaken it. “You’re freezing. You need to undress.”

She turned, and the hunger in his eyes filled her with a new kind of need. Her fingers went to the hem of her T-shirt and she gave a tug to peel it over her head. Her bra was thin, a lacy Victoria’s Secret push-up. A secret indulgence that she wore for herself. It made her feel sexy, but it did little to hide her arousal. Carson swallowed, his eyes trained on her body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. He unbuttoned his shirt. She stared at his chest as he shrugged out of the wet fabric and tossed it to the corner. Two steps brought him close, and he ran the backs of his hands down her arms. God, she loved the way he touched her, looked at her, but she wished he weren’t being so tender. She moved against him, her hips grinding ever so slightly, letting him know in no uncertain terms this was just sex.

His thumb slipped under her bra strap, and his touch was soft as he toyed with the lace, brushing her skin ever so seductively. He slipped it from her shoulder and pressed his lips to her skin, the bristles on his chin scratching her flesh. Tomorrow morning she’d be chafed, once again wearing his mark.

“As pretty as this is on you, I need you out of it.”

She reached behind her back and released the clasp, slowly baring herself to him. The bra loosened around her breasts, and Carson eased it from her body, adding it to the pile forming in the corner. His muscles flexed, the room growing heavy with the tension arching between them. Long fingers gripped her rib cage, his thumb caressing the soft swell of her breasts.

“You are so gorgeous,” he whispered.

One hand cupped the back of her head, and he dropped his mouth to hers. Her pulse leaped as she kissed him back with naked desire. His tongue found hers, and he delved deeper. Heat zinged through her, hitting every erogenous spot on the way to her sex. He didn’t kiss like other men. No, his kisses were sweet, pure, and achingly tender. But underneath the gentleness there was a domineering strength, a control that held her in place, and excited her far too much.

She moaned, and he responded by breaking the kiss and pressing his lips to her neck. Her shaky hands went to his wet hair, and she bit back an impatient sigh, every nerve in her body alive, so ready to be taken by him. She raked her fingers through his hair, following the movement of his head as it dipped lower, kissing her body with a controlled hunger that no man had ever before displayed. She’d only been with two other guys, but every time she found herself in one of their beds, the sex had been fast and a bit sloppy, her needs the least of their concerns. It was no wonder she’d turned to her battery-operated friend for her basic female needs. Until now. Until Carson.

But she couldn’t think about that at this moment, not when he was zeroing in on one breast. She arched into him, offering him her body as his hot mouth closed over one nipple.

“Yes,” she murmured.

He made a torturously slow pass with the soft blade of his tongue, the contact so intimate and profound she feared it could break her. A moan caught in her throat as he sucked her in deeper, until little hollows pulled at his cheeks. As her body shook, he sank to his knees, kissing a drunken path down her quivering flesh. His nostrils flared as he released the button on her jeans. Pleasure gathered in her core as he tugged the wet material down her legs. She lifted one foot and then the other, helping him remove it. Dressed only in her lace panties, she stood there before him, naked, needy, more desperate for his touch than she should have been.

He went back on his heels. “I need to look at you.”

She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Can you hurry?”

“I don’t want to hurry.” Slow movements brought him to his feet—tall and broad, a rock solid man who seemed hell bent on taking his time with her.
Torturous
. His fingers touched her throat, a gentle slide. “You have the softest skin.” The blue in his eyes deepened as his gaze tracked the hand he was running down her body, stroking between her breasts and stopping only when he reached the lacy band of her panties. “I’ve waited ten years, Gemma. I plan to make tonight last.”

“Carson,” she pleaded, the urgency in her voice leaving no question that she was ready for him—now.

“No, Gemma. You were a virgin when you came to me ten years ago. I didn’t know it until too late, and I swore the next time I had you in my bed, I’d be more careful with you. I’d make it good for you.”