Girl Gear 3: Bound to Happen (20 page)

When he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close, she thought she was going to die. She'd never imagined anything, anyone … no, she'd never imagined Ray feeling this good. The muscles in his back were solid and hard, the muscles in his chest the same. The hair there tickled her breasts and her nose when she nuzzled close. He smelled wonderful. Clean and amazingly sweet. And his hands at her back made her feel as if she was the tiniest little thing.

He backed up toward the bed, taking her with him. He sat, holding her by the waist. His thumbs met in the center of her belly. Her eyes had adjusted to the room's dim light, and she was able to see more now than she had been. Which meant Ray was probably also better able to see. And he was looking at her breasts, which she wished were a cup size larger.

Slowly, gently, he skated his palms up her rib cage until he was able to stroke both her nipples with his thumbs.
Sydney
tossed her head back and held tight to his forearms. Her body trembled and she hated for him to think she was frightened. She was … in a good way and of what was to come. But not of him. Never of him.

When he pulled her closer and lowered his head, when he took a nipple into his mouth, she could hardly keep from crying out. His tongue, oh, his tongue. So warm and so wet. Rasping over her sensitive skin so that her nipples drew into hard swollen peaks. And then he trailed his kisses down her belly, licking at her belly button while sliding his hands down her sides … to the brass button of her jeans.

He lifted his head, released the button, took the zipper all the way down. Oh, God, had she shaved her legs? Yes. What panties was she wearing? She thought back to getting dressed. Cotton, bikinis. Plain pink, she thought, yes, to match her pink lace bra.

And then she couldn't think anymore because Ray's thumbs were tucked beneath her waistband and he was tugging the denim over her hips. She shimmied to help and heel-toed off her black Nikes. While she did that, he leaned back and lifted one leg, then the other, to tug off his boots.

Sydney
kicked her jeans free and stood wearing only the barest scrap of pink. But when Ray reached out to pull her panties down, she stopped him, holding his hands in place at her hips. "Not yet."

She swore she heard a strangled groan when he said, "You've changed your mind."

He was so amazingly cute. And so nice to actually be willing to stop. Instinct told her how revealing that was, how rare and how special. She was afraid what she had on him was not a crush at all. A crush seemed way too simple for the flutters and the hope she was feeling.

"I haven't changed my mind. I just want you to take your pants off."

He laughed then, and she didn't think she'd ever seen anyone get out of a pair of jeans so fast. And then they were standing in the dark room in only their socks and their underwear. The cold fish and the boy she was afraid was going to make her fall in love.

When he pulled her into his arms, she went willingly, savoring the warmth of his skin and his much larger body and the press of his erection so hard against her giving flesh.

When he tugged her down to the bed, she followed without hesitation, loving the way their legs tangled together, the way his hands seemed to be everywhere at once, the time he took with his kisses before stripping them both of the rest of their clothes.

When he moved to cover her with his body, she welcomed him with a joy she hadn't known existed, with all the warmth she had to offer, with silent tears that told her she'd never done anything so right.

8

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"
C
AN YOU BELIEVE
this?" Hands in the pockets of his khaki fatigues, Anton shook his head as he took in the ancient temples surrounding the two plazas of which the archaeological site was comprised. "Two thousand years and so much of it is still here. The materials, the workmanship. It's absolutely amazing."

Standing beside Anton at the Mayan ruins of
Altun
Ha, Lauren found herself equally awed—but awed by the man at her side. His passion for his profession was evident in so many of his endeavors, but was especially palpable here and now, witnessing similar labors undertaken by some of the world's earliest architects.

She knew he didn't recognize the extent of his passion even as she knew his inner fire played a big part in the attraction that continued to draw them together. That fire was her perfect complement, emotional, as well as sexual, yet for some reason, in both arenas, he held his deepest self in check.

She wanted to knock that self-control into another dimension, she thought, smiling indulgently. More than anything, she wanted to make him let go. Selfish of her, she supposed, wanting to be there, wanting the experience, wanting to feel what happened when he finally did.

Of course
he
didn't think he was overly controlling, just as she didn't think she was overly sexed. A typical relationship tit for tat, she supposed. Though they weren't going to have a romance to tit or to tat if they didn't work on finding a solution, a compromise, or both.

Which meant they each had to face the other's criticism with an open mind.

Lauren wasn't sure that was possible.

They'd rented an old Jeep in
Belize City
and had spent the morning navigating the narrow winding road to the area's most extensively excavated Mayan site. The ruins were a big part of the Central American country's attraction, and organized tours were regularly scheduled.

Anton, however, had insisted they set their own timetable. He didn't want to be rushed. He wanted to see the sites in his own time and his own way. Lauren could hardly object. The privacy was something they needed.

"Did you always want to be an architect?" She glanced from the man back to the sixty-foot-high ruin. During their too-short time living together, he'd told her about his studies, his internship, the struggles of establishing the firm with Doug. But he'd never shared the beginnings of his dream. She wondered if she hadn't invited the confidence, or if he'd thought she wouldn't care.

A smile brightened Anton's face, softening his features, erasing so many of the lines and reminding Lauren of the face she'd fallen in love with, a face that seemed to have lost the ability to smile. She was glad to see she was wrong—even though he hadn't smiled for her.

"Only since I was about four or five and had enough
Legos
to build barracks for all my G.I. Joes." The corner of his mouth quirked up farther, but after a moment spent in private thought, he reset his mouth into an unyielding line.

Lauren found that she'd balled her hands into fists deep in her pockets and had to force herself to relax. As Anton started walking toward the Jeep, she followed, casting a quick look up at the darkening sky after a drop of rain splashed against her cheek. "I don't think you ever told me that. About the
Legos
and G.I. Joes."

"There are a lot of things I've never told you." He tossed the comment at her defensively almost, as if he'd taken her remark as an accusation. "Things that never came up in conversation. It's not like I've been hiding anything."

Lauren ground her teeth. At times she really felt as though she couldn't win for losing. "I didn't mean to imply that you had. What I meant is that it's fun to hear that type of thing about you. I don't know if I've ever thought of you as a little boy with building blocks before."

She visually measured the breadth of his shoulders as he led her from the plaza. "I'll bet you were cute."

Anton stopped walking, turned and glanced back as if wondering what it was she had on her mind. He frowned, but his mouth did break into a grin. This time, a grin meant for her.

"Cute as a bug in a rug, or so I was told over and over and over and over," he said, rolling his eyes.

Lauren grinned back. "With big blond curls?"

He shook his head so that the curls bounced. "Even bigger and blonder than the ones I have now. Pretty damn sissy-looking, if you want to know the truth."

Maybe then. Now he was anything but, with his chiseled features and the everyday stubble that followed the line of his jaw and chin. Lauren knew intimately the texture of his sexy, barely there beard. As well as the feel of his hair as her fingers slid through it.

She suppressed a rising shiver. "In all the time I spent at your parents' place, I don't think I saw any pictures of you as a kid. They were all more recent."

He looked at her for a long moment, blinking slowly, though his frown never fully returned. "Where are you going with this, Lauren?"

Hands in the pockets of her cotton walking shorts, she shrugged. "I don't know that I'm going anywhere. I was just realizing how many things about you I don't know. And I'm sorry I never got to know you better when I had the chance."

"I didn't exactly make it easy for you." He looked toward the sky, looked back again with an expression of regret. "I can be pretty single-minded."

"Is that the same as hardheaded?" she teased, hoping to dispel what she was afraid was his impending acceptance that things between them were over. She didn't want them to be over. Not yet. Not this way.

"You're cute, you know that?" He tugged on a lock of her hair, tucked it behind her ear. His touch lingered, slowly caressing. Then with his gaze holding hers, he trailed the back of his fingers the length of her neck.

Lauren closed her eyes and shuddered. God, she had missed his touch. True, they'd slept close together the other night, and that casual connection had given her a sense of security, a grounding she desperately needed.

But it was nothing compared to this simple touch, a touch that to Lauren's mind defined the intimacy she'd been missing.

So when Anton suddenly pulled away, she looked up.

His expression appeared to be a strange mix of sadness and confusion. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" she asked, and frowned. Why did she react to his touch? Was that what he was asking? How could he not understand? Especially after all this time? "Why do I enjoy the way your hands make me feel? Is that what you want to know? Do you think I shouldn't enjoy the way you touch me?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. I'd be surprised if you didn't enjoy having me touch you," he added, lifting a sardonic brow. "You've told me more than a few times how you feel about sex, and I certainly have enough experience to draw on."

"Why is my sexuality such a problem for you?" When he didn't answer, Lauren hung her head. Then she looked back. And then she looked away. "I never understood why my getting into our physical relationship made you so uncomfortable. It was like you held back."

This was what she hated to ask, but what, more than anything, she needed to know. "Did you? Hold back? Because of me?"

He all but shuffled his feet. "What do you want me to say, Lauren? Do you really want me to be honest? Okay, then. Here's your honesty. I held back because I didn't know if what you were feeling was real. If you were real. If you were feeling for me, because of me … with me. Or if you were just … feeling. For the sake of feeling."

Of course sex was about physical feeling. But that was not all it was and Anton knew that. He had to know that. He couldn't really believe she hadn't involved her emotions. Not after all this time.

Rain began to fall steadily, but Lauren didn't care. "I'm not about to deny that I love sex. And I'm not going to deny myself that enjoyment. But it's being with the person you love … it's me being with you that makes it work. That makes it good. I can't believe you don't know that."

He didn't answer. Not with spoken words or with body language or with an expression she was able to read. The only thing he did was grab her hand and pull. "Let's get out of the rain. Then we can talk."

Her preference would have been to stand in the rain and let the water wash away her building disappointment. She
so
did not want to get into a fight. Not after the way things had been going so beautifully between them the past several days.

But Anton's hand and pace were both insistent and so she set off at a brisk jog behind him. They reached the parked Jeep just as the first cloud burst. And between fumbling with the keys and struggling with the doors, both were more than a little wet by the time they climbed inside.

Lauren was glad she'd put her hair in a braid. She slicked her palms up her forehead before the water beaded there ran into her eyes. She shook off her arms and, with nowhere to wipe her hands, finally settled on her cotton tank top, which was a wasted effort because the material had absorbed all the water it was going to absorb.