The Fairest of Them All (11 page)

“Russ,” she said around the lump in her throat, “why are we still dressed?” Then, with unsteady hands, Carly pushed the unbuttoned cotton shirt from his shoulders.

Russ pulled the jersey off her. As he kissed her, she pushed her fingers through the soft curly thatch of hair on his chest. She glided her hands over his corded muscles. She ran her fingernail over one tight male nipple and felt his gasp against her throat. Her panties disappeared next.

In a swift movement, he shucked his jeans and pushed her thighs farther apart to accommodate him. Carly braced herself for him, but he tantalized her with the intimate proximity, focusing his attention on her beaded, sensitive breasts.

With lips, tongue, and teeth, he teased her to distraction. Just when she thought he was finished, he sucked one engorged nipple deep into his mouth. At the same time, his hand traveled with lazy precision to her wet, aching core.

Carly choked out a cry.

But Russ wasn’t through with her yet. While stroking the tiny nubbin of femininity, he slid one finger inside her. An unbearable tightness coiled within her. She arched off the bed, against his hand, against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

But it wasn’t. Beneath his hands and mouth, Carly hovered on the razor-sharp line of wrenching need. Tears came to her eyes. Her fingers clenched his broad shoulders in agitated movements. “Russ!”

Russ instantly stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

Carly could have wept. “No. Yes.” The unsatisfied yearning threatened to bum her to cinders. “Don’t leave me like this.” She twisted restlessly against him.

“Oh, baby, I won’t.” He kissed her, then pulled back for a quick moment to protect her. “Put your legs around my waist,” he murmured in her ear.

Carly complied, distantly feeling the fine sheen of perspiration on his skin, hearing the telltale roughness in his voice. His body was taut and hard against hers. He gently probed her entrance with his iron masculinity.

She looked at his face, a mask of sternly controlled need, and wanted to soothe and release him from his torment. She moved against him in a seeking, welcoming motion.

Russ gritted his teeth. “Don’t move.”

“Why?”

He cursed under his breath. “Just don’t.”

Carly didn’t comply. She arched, drawing him in.

“Oh, God,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” Then he thrust deeply within her.

Carly gasped. Her body stung, protesting the intimate invasion. They both lay there perfectly still. Russ’s breath heaved.

After a long moment, he raised his head. “You okay?”

Carly didn’t answer right away. Instead she wiggled experimentally.

Russ groaned, staring into deep violet eyes. Her lips were provocatively swollen from his kisses. Her breasts beaded against his chest. Her thighs wrapped around his waist like a silken chain. He couldn’t remember wanting like this before. He wanted her body, her mind, her heart. Complete possession. Nothing else would do. If possible, he grew harder. The urge to mindlessly, repeatedly pump into her grew stronger with each passing second. “You okay?”

Carly wiggled again, the movement drawing him deeper into her and depleting his mental reserve. “I want—” she broke off when he rubbed his finger against her sensitized bud. “I-just want-more of you,” she whispered brokenly.

Her womanly neediness stabbed his heart and shattered his control. Russ thrust against her. Her feminine walls grasped him while he watched with tender fascination as the motion of his persistent, caressing finger sent Carly into ecstasy.

She stiffened and her tiny internal tremors precipitated his own. Russ gave a hoarse growl of possession as he went over the edge into a bottomless well of release.

Moments later, Russ lay beside Carly, staring at her with fascination. He felt as though he’d just taken a ride on the world’s fastest roller coaster and his body hummed with the aftershocks. His emotions were in an uproar. His mind spun in circles. It was no experienced painted lady responsible for his knocked-blindsided state, he realized in amazement. It was little virgin girl-next-door Carly Pendleton.

Unlike his other experiences with sex, Russ had no desire to leave his lover. He found he wanted to stroke her hair, to cuddle her, to share quiet conversation.

Following his inclination, he reached a hand to her tousled hair. “Carly,” he whispered.

There was no response.

“Carly.” He raised up to look at her. She faced the other direction. Her lips were sensuously puffy. Her open palm rested against her cheek in a gesture of vulnerability. He nudged her one last time to no avail. Her eyes remained stubbornly closed and her breathing relentlessly even. Russ’s hellfire lover was sleeping like a babe.

The next morning Carly woke to the smell of bacon frying. Rain beat against the roof in a mesmerizing rhythm. It was a perfect day to stay in bed, she thought groggily. She snuggled deeper under the covers.

A male voice hummed the “Tennessee Waltz.” Carly’s eyes snapped open. She sprang upright in the bed. In Russ’s bed, she realized with a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. She peeked under the covers at her body, which bore several whisker bums in incriminating places, then she quickly got out of bed.

Carly hadn’t expected sex with Russ to be so overwhelming, so passionate. She hadn’t expected to beg him. Carly cringed at the memory. After knowing Russ all her life, she’d expected the fun and craziness, not such desperate need, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt, let alone how to act this morning.

“Hey, Carly,” Russ called from the hall.

She glanced down at her nude body and dashed into the bathroom. “I’ll be out after my shower,” she yelled, closing the door. Turning the water on full force, she resolved to present a more sophisticated, worldly attitude by the time she faced Russ.

Ten minutes later, she joined him at the table. “This looks great. I’m starving.” She tightened the belt of the borrowed terry robe almost to the point of suffocation and smiled at him.

“Good,” Russ said, and promptly planted a firm kiss on her mouth. “You look great, too, in my kitchen, in my robe, in my bed.”

His repeated use of “my” made her shift in her seat, but she decided to ignore it. Maybe it was just morning-after talk. “I like your robe. I may take it with me on Monday.”

“Nah,” Russ said, spooning eggs onto her plate. “If you took it to your apartment, you wouldn’t have anything to use when you’re here.”

That was a huge assumption, in her opinion. “I was just joking,” she said lightly.

Russ looked at her. “I wasn’t.”

Carly shrugged and bit into a piece of toast.

He lifted her chin with a finger and pinned her with his gaze. “You know, making love can change a relationship. People start thinking about permanency—”

Her throat closed just as she swallowed, and she broke into spasms of choking coughs. She gulped hot coffee and after scalding her tongue she shook her head. “Oh, no, Russ. You don’t have to worry about that. I have no intention of getting into a permanent relationship with any man, just like you have no intention of entering a permanent relationship with a woman. I have no illusions about last night. You wanted me and I wanted you. That’s as far as it went.” She smiled, extraordinarily proud of herself. She sounded sensible and practical, almost worldly.

Russ stared as if she’d grown fangs and a beard.

She reached over and patted him on the shoulder, faltering at the memory of his bare body. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I don’t want you to feel an unnecessary responsibility for me just because last night was my, uh . . .”

“First time,” he finished for her. “It sounds like you think this is a one-night stand, Carly. I thought I made it clear that one time wouldn’t be enough for either of us. After last night, I’d think you’d realize that too.”

“Not a one-night stand,” she corrected quickly. “I was thinking more in terms of a, uh, an affair.” This had sounded so much better in the shower. “That way, you won’t have to worry about me expecting marriage, and I’ll be able to keep my independence. You were so smart to think of this arrangement.”

She was blaming him for this idea! Russ cracked his knuckles underneath the table, then brought a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed. If her brothers didn’t wring her neck, maybe he’d do it himself. He’d been sure their sweet intimacy would bring her desire for a committed relationship to the surface. Once again, he’d miscalculated. Russ sighed. “Better eat your eggs before they get cold.”

Throughout the meal, Carly attempted small talk, but Russ appeared distracted. Her confidence waned with each conversational dud until she became quiet and finished in silence. They cleared the dishes from the table, and she wondered miserably what her morning-after faux pas had been. Well, there was no sense in remaining in such an uncomfortable situation especially if Russ didn’t want her here. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a ride home. This would be a good time to take care of some of my bookkeep-ing.”

“Nah.” He turned on the dishwasher. “It’s Sunday and it’s raining.”

Carly frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Russ pulled on the lapels of the robe she wore until she stood an inch away from him. Then he put his mouth against her ear.

Carly’s stomach knotted.

“There’s only one acceptable activity for lovers on a rainy Sunday afternoon, Carly.” He ran a string of kisses down her neck, approving her faint shiver. It had taken the entire meal for him to formulate his plan. If Carly wanted an affair, then that was exactly what she would get. Russ planned to give her the affair of her life, the affair to last her life. The affair that would lead to a September wedding. He loosened the belt of the terry robe, pushed it from her shoulders, and felt heat flood his veins at her naked beauty.

“You want an affair, lady?” Russ kissed her, then placed her hands on the buttons of his shirt. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

Carly hesitated, then undid his buttons. Slowly, her lips lifted in a smile that turned sultry. “Russ, if you find the prospect that unpalatable, I wouldn’t want you to put yourself out.”

Russ chuckled. “You’re too sassy for your own good.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He gave her fanny a quick smack and smiled at her shriek as he hauled her over his shoulder in a fireman's hold.

“It’s not afternoon, you big lug,” she told him as he walked unmistakably toward the master bedroom.

“I like to get an early start. We can just practice.”

“You’re quiet,” Russ said as he turned the comer into her apartment’s parking lot. “What are you thinking about?”

Carly glanced at Russ. He wore a casual shirt and jeans. His jaw was shadowed with surprisingly attractive stubble. He hadn't shaved, instead saying he preferred to spend the time with her.

He was her lover now, and she would never be able to look at him in the same way. He’d been tender, funny, and sexy. She’d had a wonderful weekend. But there was something beneath his manner that made her uneasy. He was demonstrative when they made love, and with the exception of that one moment when he’d talked about his father, he kept conversation light and breezy. He was keeping his heart under wraps, she realized, just as she’d always known he would. She stirred restlessly, struggling with an odd twinge of disappointment.

“Work,” she finally replied. That’s what she should be thinking about.

“Work? Is that why you’re wearing that lost- puppy-dog face?” He pulled the truck to a stop and turned off the engine.

“Russ, this may shock you, but I don’t like being compared to a lost puppy dog.”

“Testy, too, huh?”

His accuracy irritated her. “I’m not testy.”

Ignoring her prickliness, he hauled her into his lap.

She struggled. “I’m being squashed.”

Russ shifted. “I’m feeling testy too. You didn’t wear either one of those slinky nighties the whole time you were at my house.”

She pursed her lips against the amusement bubbling within her. He sounded like a little boy denied his favorite ride at the fair. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I didn’t?” He gave a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “I guess you’ll just have to wear them next time. How about tonight?”

Carly’s laugh escaped. “No. I’ve got a ton of work.”

Russ ignored her. “I’ve got an even better idea. Why don’t I move your things over to my house today and you can just go ahead and move in?”

Sheer terror clogged her throat. “No!” she squeaked out.

Russ’s eyes narrowed. His demeanor became serious. “Why not?”

Carly laughed nervously, filling the awkward silence. She didn’t want to offend him, but the idea of moving in with Russ Bradford reeked of commitment, and the notion of committing herself to a man she was unsure of seemed stupid. She gave him a quick kiss and scrambled to the other seat. “You’re too distracting. That’s why not.” She pushed open the car door and got out.

Russ met her on the sidewalk and captured her hand in his. “Okay, I’ll put a hold on the moving truck. When can I see you again? Tuesday night?” Carly shook her head.

“Wednesday?”

She shook her head again slowly.

“Thursday?”

Carly grimaced when she thought of her schedule. “You know, if I were lacking in self-confidence, you’d be doing severe damage to my ego.”

“Yes, but you don’t lack self-confidence,” she pointed out.

“I’d hate to have to resort to kidnapping again.”

“Thursday night,” Carly said.

“You want what?” Troy and Daniel asked at the same time.

Russ took a long swallow of beer and prepared himself for yet another battle for the sake of Carly Pendleton’s hand. “I want to buy your shares in
Matilda's Dream
.”

Troy’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Why? I thought you were keeping busy with your catfish operation.”