Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (21 page)

What felt good right then was the warmth of his hand. She closed her eyes, letting herself just feel it for a moment. Remembering what it was like to be touched. To want to be touched. Almost without thinking, she brought her hand to his, sliding her palm across the back of his fingers.

She leaned forward slowly, resting her cheek against the solid wall of his chest. “I’m glad you’re here. And I’m sorry I’m such a loon.”

“You’re not a loon.” His voice rumbled pleasantly against her ear. “You’re just nervous. So am I. We should probably have just done this in the truck last weekend—gotten it over with so we could get to the good part. But I don’t fit in a truck all that well.”

She gazed up at him. “The good part?”

“The part where you know each other. Where you each understand what the other one wants. That kind of good part.”

Her lips tipped up. All of a sudden, her heart seemed lighter. “Yeah. That is a good part.”

“It is. But to get there, we’ve got to take the first step. And that means…” He paused.

She nodded. “That means you come with me. Now.”

She turned, taking his hand to lead him down the hall. Toward the bedroom. And the other good part.

Chico watched her step inside the bedroom door. She seemed smaller somehow, her body more delicate than he’d thought before. Of course, he wasn’t sure what he looked like himself. He hoped he didn’t resemble a barbarian come to plunder virgins.

He wasn’t sure what was wrong here, besides the usual first time nervousness, but he felt as if he was walking on quicksand. One wrong step and he’d sink. He didn’t want that to happen. He only hoped he had enough skill to keep it from happening no matter what he wanted.

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly expert lover. He figured he’d better learn. Fast.

Her bedroom was dark, illuminated only by reflected light from the street outside. At least the bed was large enough. He didn’t want to think about maneuvering on a convertible couch.

Andy reached for the light switch, but he caught her hand. “Maybe just the lamp for now.” Dim light wouldn’t make him any smaller, but it might mute the impact a little.

She gave him one of those uncertain smiles he was getting used to seeing, then clicked on the bedside lamp so that half the room had a subdued glow. For the first time he took a long look at her.

She wore her work clothes—a crisp blue, button-down shirt and khakis, sensible shoes, small gold rings at her ears. The kind of clothes that made a woman fade into the background, which was probably what she wanted in her line of work. It was what she’d wanted in her non-working life too until he showed up. He hoped she wouldn’t worry about it—he knew for a fact she wouldn’t fade into the background as long as they were together.

Her sandy hair seemed darker in the lamplight, her face paler. Something about her expression made his heart contract—those luminous green eyes, the faint spray of freckles across her nose, her full pink lips. Pure pink, with no lipstick to dilute the color. She looked younger than she probably was, nervous, vulnerable.

I’m not the enemy, Andy.
But he’d need to show her that before she’d believe him. He only hoped he could do it right.

He reached for the top button on her shirt, pushing it through the button hole as she watched him. Then the next and the next. Her shirt fell open to reveal royal purple lace, cut low, showing more than respectable breasts.
Well now.

So the inner Andy wasn’t quite the decorous scientist he’d expected. New possibilities danced around his mind.

She slid her hands under the edge of his T-shirt, rubbing her palms across his stomach as he sucked in a breath. Heat spread along his chest and down, tightening his body.

The corners of her mouth edged up in a faint grin.

That’s more like it.
He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head quickly. Better get this out of the way before she lost her nerve again.

Her grin faded as she stared. He stood still for a moment, letting her look. He knew what she saw—the breadth of his chest, the dark hair spreading in a triangle that moved down in a heavy line to his groin. His arms rounded with muscle from lifting beer kegs and free weights. No way to conceal it. He was a big man.

She stepped forward, running her palms lightly across his chest again, his skin warming beneath her touch.

“Nice,” she whispered.

He swallowed. “I used to shave my chest for the WWF. I stopped when I left.”

“I’m glad.” Her lips edged up again. “I like it this way.” She leaned forward and gently brushed her lips across his collarbone.

He took a deep breath. His image of her as a timorous innocent was quickly being replaced by something a lot more interesting. He kept having to readjust his approach, which at least kept him on his toes. So to speak.

He reached for the catch at the front of her bra, then pushed it away, cupping her breasts and watching her face as he did. Her eyes fluttered closed as he caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger, rolling them lightly.

He leaned forward, running the tip of his tongue along the side of her throat, then feathered a line of kisses along the edge of her chin. She moved onto her tiptoes, purring deep in her throat as she rubbed against him.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

He stepped back slightly, leaning down to slip off his shoes and socks. Andy watched him, her shoulders rising and falling swiftly with her breath. He ran his fingers along her cheekbones, trying to gauge whether her widened pupils were fear or excitement. Maybe both. “Okay?”

She nodded, smiling again. “Oh yes.” Her hands moved to the waistband of her khakis, but he pushed them away, gently.

“I like to do that.”

She nodded, her head jerking slightly, then dropped her hands away.

He stepped closer again, concentrating on her zipper. Maybe if he made it a one-step-at-a-time deal, he could keep the pace measured. Right now he was fighting a searing urge to pick her up and toss her on the bed, following her down as quickly as he could.

Instead, he pushed her slacks down gently, mildly amused to see that her lacy, royal purple panties matched her bra. Definitely a closet romantic.

Being naked made her shy again. She dropped her gaze to his chest, running her hands across the bands of muscle at his pecs.

“Look at me, Andy.” He managed to keep his voice level.

She raised her eyes, deep green in the lamplight, then stood watching him a little nervously, her arms folded beneath her breasts.

He took hold of her hands, opening her arms so that he could look at her. “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said softly.

Her forehead furrowed slightly, as if she wanted to disagree. Then she blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

He stared a moment longer, memorizing this first sight of her—high, full breasts, gently rounded hips, long legs. A woman’s body. The kind of body he’d always preferred, even when he was mostly a boy himself.

“Beautiful,” he repeated.

She reached for him, her hands dropping to the waistband of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling down the zipper. He didn’t try to stop her, although he had a feeling she’d want to stop soon. Instead, he pushed his jeans and underwear down his hips and kicked them away.

Andy did stop then, staring.

Which was pretty much what he’d expected. Some women thought his size was cool. Some were scared shitless. Even the most resolute usually seemed to need a couple of moments to fortify themselves.

“It’s okay,” he said slowly. “It’ll work.”

She nodded. “I know that. I’m just taking a moment to appreciate you.” She smiled up at him then, reaching toward the erection that strained toward his stomach.

He shook his head, catching her hand. “Nope. Not if you want the first time to last more than a couple of minutes. That’s something I want, believe me.”

He caught her around the waist, lifting her to her toes so that he could bring his mouth down on hers. She opened to him, winding her arms around his neck, her body pushed against his so that his cock was pressed between them.

She tasted of beer and summer, with a faint hint of roses, maybe from her soap. He felt slightly dizzy all of a sudden, not surprising since all the blood in his body seemed to have rushed to a single point.

He had one last fleeting moment of sanity. “I don’t suppose you’re on the pill.”

She shook her head. “Maybe I should be, but I’m not right now.”

“That’s okay.” He bent briefly to pull a condom out of his jeans pocket. “We can talk about it. Later.”

Andy fought down the vicious butterflies that were attacking her stomach. Yes, he was big. Very big. Huge, even. It didn’t matter. They’d fit together perfectly. She knew it now.

She loved the feel of her breasts pressed against him, the slight prickle of his chest hair against her nipples. His erection throbbed against her belly and she moved closer, pressing her thighs against him as he took her mouth again.

His tongue rubbed against hers, his hands dropping to her buttocks, his fingers kneading. She fought to keep her eyes open, to keep watching, feeling, all of it real and hot.

He lifted her again, his hands on her hips, as he sank back on her bed. She stared down at him, her hands braced against his shoulders.

“Easier this way,” he panted. “Okay with you?”

She nodded. She didn’t think her voice would work if she tried using it.

He tore open the condom, unrolling it quickly and smoothing it in place. She thought about offering to do it for him, but she had a feeling she might get distracted if she tried it.

He lifted her hips again, then brought her down on his erection, slowly, slowly, letting her open to him a bit at a time. She brought her knees along his hips, watching his face as she dipped lower, then rising again, still slowly. Then down, easier now, feeling him fill her, all of him. A perfect fit. He was right. They fit perfectly.

Heat pooled in her belly, moving upward, a hot bubble expanding in her core. She moved more quickly now, sliding up and then down again.

He reached up to touch her, rubbing his fingers across her clitoris, and her body seemed to explode as the heat overwhelmed her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, moaning as she leaned forward.

He brought his hands to her shoulders, stroking her back gently. “Okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Yes. Definitely.
She smiled down at him, thinking that if she ever ran into Lew Burke again, she’d spit in his eye.

Chico was still hot and hard inside her, his chest rising and falling as he fought for breath. She dropped her hands to his sac, cupping him as she rose up again and slid back down.

His breath caught and he stared up at her. She had the feeling he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Now,” she whispered. “Now, Chico.”

His hips jerked up against hers, his hands grasping her hips tight. He growled deep in his throat, losing all rhythm, his hips slapping against hers.

She closed her eyes, feeling the heat rise inside her again, then brought her hips down, taking him in again, all of him, her muscles straining against him.

“Christ,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he gave way. “Holy Christ.”

Suddenly, her arms went limp. She collapsed against his chest, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat beneath her.
Say something.
But she couldn’t think of anything to say. No words she could come up with came anywhere near to describing what had just happened to her. To them both, if she was any judge.

His hand rubbed up and down her backbone. The warmth of his breath tickled her ear. “Okay?” he asked finally.

He seemed to ask that a lot. Either he’d had trouble in the past, or he’d decided she was a fragile flower. She couldn’t do anything about the first possibility, but she could take care of the second. She put a hand on his chest, pushing herself halfway up so she could look at him. “I’m absolutely okay,” she said flatly. “In fact, I don’t remember the last time I was this okay. In fact,
okay
is definitely not the right word to describe this, but I’m damned if I can think of anything else.” She sank down on his chest again. “My brain has been liquefied.”

His chest shook beneath her cheek and she realized he was laughing. “Well, that’s good to hear, Ms. Wells. I mean, not the liquefied part, you know. The rest of it.”

She propped her chin up again so that she could look at him. His long, dark hair was tangled on her pillow, his eyes hooded as he watched her.

“Are you staying?” She supposed she could have put it a little more subtly, but she wanted to know. And she was still trying to get away from the whole
okay
thing.

“Are you asking?” One of his dark eyebrows arched up.

She nodded. “Yes. Definitely. I make a good cup of coffee. And I’m pretty sure I have two eggs.”

“Then I wouldn’t miss it.” He rolled her gently to the side, running a hand along her cheek. “I’m a decent hand with bacon myself.”

“Then I’d say we’re set.” She snuggled herself against him, tucking her forehead under his chin.