Summertime Dream (18 page)

Escaping home to shower before returning for supper should have been a welcome break. Unfortunately, washing up under the massaging stream of warm water and slippery froth of soap left every inch of her aware and yearning. Oh, she needed. Imagining his hands sliding over her in place of hers, his deep, scorching kisses mixed in with the raining spray, his strong body hard against hers was all far too easy. Even turning the shower to cold probably wouldn’t help.

She wanted to let herself be loved again, fully. But to get what she wanted, she had to risk letting a man see her again.

Debi was right. She couldn’t judge all men by Eddie’s rejection. She needed to face her fears. She should straight out tell Christopher. The treatments to lessen the scarring had helped. Joe had been a researching madman looking up everything to help her. People had told her she should think of it as a badge of honor, proof she was a survivor, that the alternative was worse. True enough. Dead would be worse. The scar would fade further with time, the doctors promised that, but, oh, she wanted it faded
now
, long ago.

The old lump lodged in her throat. She wanted it to never have been needed.

Maybe she only needed more time. Maybe she wasn’t ready for moving on. She and Eddie had been a couple forever. There had been no seduction, just love. She couldn’t remember a time they hadn’t loved each other, from puppy love and the first impulsive child’s kiss at seven to that look across the high school lunchroom table and the mutual discovery their friendship was no longer puppy love. So easy, simple, and beautiful.

Only, their happily ever after hadn’t quite worked out.

Stop. No looking back. Focus on now and move forward. What do you want now?

Christopher.

Going by their kisses, fanning the heat between them into more wouldn’t take much seduction on either side.

Could she?

Giddily determined, she left off the bra as she dressed. She was small enough to make the pink sleeveless top she chose work, and she really liked the colorful beaded design around the high neckline, but boy, oh, boy, the thin knit made her relentless arousal all too clear.

She shimmied into her prettiest panties and then the crinkle gauze tropical print skirt. And no slip. Oh, yes, this was going to be interesting. She’d never done anything as daring and decadent. She turned about in front of her mirror and fanned her flaming cheeks. Interesting or completely embarrassing.

A quick check outside as she picked two tomatoes for their supper confirmed far too much sunshine glowed through the thin gauze fabric. Go in and change into something more...normal?

No, she was done with status quo. Time to boldly do what she’d never done before. Change herself. Prove she was alive. Seize the day.

At least a little.

She whistled to Penny and set off for Christopher’s.

His kiss hello remained simple and sweet when she arrived, but his eyes lit with sparking heat, taking in every inch of her too thinly clothed self.

A scorching blush swept her and the zing of desire only worsened the situation with her top. Oh, yes, that knit was way too thin.

But this is what you wanted, right? You definitely have his attention.

“Hungry? We can start supper, if you like.” He petted Penny, sweeping another hooded glance over her.

Yes, for you
. But she kept that to herself and handed over the tomatoes. “Yes. What are you in the mood for?” Butterflies fluttered in her belly. Oh, that question could be taken two very different ways. In for a penny…She gave him her own look-over in return, from his lightly mussed damp hair and the wry twist to his broadening smile, to his untucked white short-sleeved button-down shirt and khaki shorts, and to his strong legs and bare feet.

“Oh, I’m in the mood for…” A wicked, teasing twinkle filled his eyes. “A chicken taco salad.”

His teasing popped the tension, and she took an easy breath. “Sounds interesting.” She followed him into the kitchen.

“Sounds fancier than it is. Basically, chicken sautéed up in chili seasoning, served over a tossed salad, with salsa, and tortilla chips. And now, with your tomatoes, it’ll be great. What would you like to drink? A glass of wine?”

“Thanks, that sounds good.” Maybe the wine would settle the last of her skittering nerves.

“Lloyd emailed me his opinions of must-do, should-do, and can-wait repairs based on the inspection report. Not as good as I hoped, but not horrible as I expected.”

“Oh, good.”

Preparing supper provided a welcome time-out from her anxieties. Unlike home where Dad and Joe couldn’t turn off being the bossy chefs in charge, always ordering her around and instructing her, working alongside Christopher brought back the pleasure of cooking. She stopped worrying about perfect knife work and exacting clean up and enjoyed Christopher’s stories and the perfectly untidy, delicious meal. The glass of wine helped, as did his favorite smooth jazz music, the song at the moment by guitarist Marc Antoine. She liked the easy, relaxing jazz, and all its varied moods, from the sensual to the lively, finding new favorite artists she’d never heard before, and she wished she’d discovered this music ages ago.

Still, she kept waiting for a good moment to tell him about her surgery, but the right moment never quite arrived, and, yes, she was afraid to cast a cloud over the most enjoyable meal she’d ever helped prepare. Planning a confession and a seduction at the same time was proving complicated. Spontaneity would be better, probably.

Shadows lengthened outside the windows, cooling the day. Penny sprawled out sleeping on the kitchen doormat, belly to the light breeze sifting through the screen. Christopher poured them each a second glass of wine. As he washed the dishes and she dried, he had her laughing over his tale of a fishing trip he’d taken a few years back with his friends. One thing after another had gone wrong, including a run-in with a hungry bear.

“Sounds like you had a great time, despite the bear, rain, and mud. Or maybe because of them. I’d love to meet your friends.” She paused in her drying for an icy sip of wine. “I think I’d like an adventure like that someday. Minus the up close and personal with the bear, though.”

Christopher chuckled and set the last dish in the drainer. He snagged the towel from her.

Laughing at his playful theft, she whirled around. “I haven’t finished…” She lost her words as the mirth in his eyes flared to desire.

He swallowed the last of his wine, tossed the towel at the dish drainer, and set his glass on the counter.

They met in a sweet, wine-cooled kiss. He skimmed his hands over her, drifting lower until he cupped her bottom, drawing her possessively close.

Sighing with delight, she draped her arms around his neck, softening into his embrace and the long, deep kiss. So good. She loved kissing Christopher. Light or possessive, every kiss between them fit perfectly. Swaying together to the sensual music, not quite dancing, yet more than dancing. Every nerve awake and waiting, wanting. At every sway and step, his chest brushed against her breasts, each touch peaking her nipples with delightful zings of sensation. Her flimsy clothing left no barrier to his wandering touch, gentle and rough, as he cupped her breasts and splayed his hands over her bottom. His arousal pressed a hard ridge against her belly. Being so desired was intoxicating.

The fan’s steady breeze added its own caresses over her flushing skin as Christopher traced his lips over her cheek and jaw, slowing to nip and suck at her earlobe, and tasting nibbles onwards down her throat. She shivered and let her head fall back, offering herself more to his clever mouth and tongue.

He shifted his stance, dipping her back over his steady arm. He closed his mouth on her breast, suckling firmly through the thin knit fabric. She gasped, gripping his shoulders, arching into his tonguing and tender bites that drew a humming pull of sheer delight through her body. “That feels so…so…” The right adjective escaped her pleasure-hazed mind.

He chuckled. “So what?” He moved to the other breast, suckling just as hard, pleasure again arcing through her core.

She whimpered, wanting more. “Oh…Wonderful.” Not even close. Better.

“Good.” After sweetly tormenting both breasts, he raised her up, his mouth to hers again in little kisses, both of them catching their breaths.

Maybe she’d been overthinking everything. Tonight with Christopher was so right, and easier than she’d imagined as she’d dressed with this evening in mind. Simple—no, should have been simple, like her experiences with Eddie in the past, but this, deliberately choosing to be with Christopher, this was not simple at all. Maybe this was just like that first swim of the year and she simply needed to dive on in. Wanting to explore him as he was exploring her, she stroked her hand over his chest, following the heated contours of muscles beneath the smooth, cool cotton of his shirt, and down until she reached the hard bulge behind his zipper.

Giving a throaty growl of encouragement, he pressed into her caress. “Yes, honey, like that.” He slid his hands onto her bottom, squeezing and molding, holding her firmly against the urgent press of his body.

Riding together, murmuring sweet nonsense. Every stroke and caress drawing out sighs and groans and “Yes. Here” and “More.” Greedy hands seeking bare skin, hungry mouths tasting everywhere, stoking the crackling energy between them as unsteady steps brought them bumping against the heavy obstacle of the kitchen table. Oh, better, the leverage made everything so much better.

With fumbling, impatient fingers, she tackled his shirt buttons, hungry to touch more of him, pleasurably distracted in her task by his deep urgent kisses. And then, she was gliding hands over smooth hot skin, hard muscles, tracing the light curling hair of his chest and the silky trail leading over his taut abdomen. She paused short of his waistband snap and the straining ridge of his erection waiting below.

Without breaking their kiss, he unfastened his shorts, grazing his hand over hers with an easy guiding push.

Accepting his invitation, she drifted her hand lower and drew an exploring stroke over the hard and hot length of him jutting beneath the cotton of his briefs.

He growled, all male approval, and pressed into her touch as he slid his hands over her thighs, gentle and reverent, pushing up the fluff of her skirt, until he gripped her nearly bare bottom, his fingers tracing the thin lace of her panties.

He dragged his mouth from hers with a rough groan and hooked a finger under the band of her panties, but paused, the question clear in his eyes, giving her a chance to change her mind. “I need to touch you.”

She shivered, her whole body pulsing with want, caught on the precipice of need and the unknown. “Yes.”

Keeping his gaze locked on her eyes, he drew the panties down until they slipped to her feet. She kicked them free. Only the gauzy drift of her skirt shielded her now.

He caught her up abruptly and lifted her to sit on the table. As he claimed her mouth in another deep possessive kiss, he gave the first gentle, questing strokes to the wet, needy center of her. She whimpered, opening to his touch. “Please.” She arched against him.

And please he did, stroking her below, experimenting with different touches and tempos. The lush sensations purged her mind of everything past, leaving only Christopher and the flood of pleasure he gave. His finger now gliding lower to enter gently and withdraw, her body’s reflexive clutch on him, wanting him filling her fully, deeply.

Lacing her fingers into his hair, she held him close, riding his hand to the sensual dreamy music and drowning in his kiss, his tongue echoing the driving tempo of his fingers below. The dueling thrilling sensations sending her arching wildly into his touch. “Oh, yes. More…Please.”

He chuckled and gave her everything she asked for and more. He slipped his hand under her shirt, cupping her bare breast, his thumb drawing across her tight nipple. “Come on, come for me.” Harder, hungrier, wonderful strokes of hands and tongue. Desire coiled in her, heating. Whimpers escaping her, little needy cries stealing in place of all she wanted to say.

“Close…” Oh, so close, he had her so close she couldn’t bear it. Shivering with need, all she could do was hold tight and writhe against his hand.
Oh, more!
She came sharply, arching on the freeing burst of pleasure. “Oh, Chris!” Gasping and laughing joyously, she collapsed bonelessly into his embrace.

He stroked her hair. “You’re so damned beautiful.”

Oh, she wanted so much more with him. She wanted everything from him. She could do this. She needed to do this. She straightened, sinking her hands into his hair, meeting his eyes so neither of them would doubt her decision. “I want you.”

“Ah, honey, I want you too.” He stroked her breast, her bare hips. “I’ve got to see you, all of you,” he murmured against her mouth.

Then he caught the hem of her top.

See.

A clammy buzz of panic shattered her bliss and determination. Reality crushed her. She clamped her hand on his, stopping him, and pressed her other hand to his chest. “I can’t. No!” She lurched aside, blindly attempting to flee.

He caught her shoulders, steadying her before she fell. “Margie? What’s wrong, honey?” At his worry roughened voice and the sweet concern on his face, she regretted stopping him even more. But…No. Just no.

Shakes rattled through her. “I thought I could. I can’t. I’m sorry. I want more, but...I’m not ready. I just...I’m sorry.” She’d loved his treating her like she was a normal woman, but what a fool she’d been to dream she could ever be normal again. She’d been a fool to dream she could ignore the ugly scar’s existence and pull off a seduction. She was a coward.

“You must think I’m a tease.” To her deepening humiliation, tears spilled. She should have told him the truth instead of the vague “she’d been very sick” as if she’d merely had the flu. But she couldn’t bring herself to confess. If he learned how very ill she’d been, he’d surely back away and treat her like something breakable as did everyone in her life, and he was leaving…Only ten days of knowing Christopher, and already, losing him would hurt far more than she could face.