Wallbanger (40 page)

And luxurious most certainly meant that I got to spend each night in that bed with Simon. Now that’s a priceless luxury, not offered on every grand tour. We rounded another base or two, teasing each other with a little over-the-panties encounter. Were we being ridiculous, waiting until the last night in Spain to consummate this “thing”? Probably, but who the hell cared? He spent almost an hour kissing every inch of my legs one night, and I spent about the same amount of time having a conversation with his belly button. We just…enjoyed.

But with all this enjoyment came a certain amount of, well, how shall we say, nervous energy?

Back in San Francisco, we’d spent months engaged in verbal foreplay. But now, here? The actual foreplay? It was not to be believed. My body was so in tune with his, I knew when he walked into the room, and I knew when he was about to touch me, seconds before he did. The air between us was sexually charged, vibes zinging back and forth with enough energy to light up the entire town. Sexual chemistry? Had it. Sexual frustration? On the rise and getting close to critical.

Oh, hell, I’ll say it. I was H-O-R-N-Y.

Which was why after we spent the afternoon in the caves, we found ourselves in the kitchen, kissing madly. We were both a little tired from the day, and I’d been wanting to test out that beautiful Viking range. I was preparing vegetables for the grill and stirring some saffron rice when he came in after a shower. It’s almost impossible for me to explain the sight of him: worn white T-shirt, faded jeans, barefoot, scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He grinned, and I began to see double. I literally couldn’t see through the haze of lust and need I suddenly felt surge through me. I needed my hands to be on his body, and I needed it to happen immediately.

“Mmm, something smells good. Want me to get the grill started?” he asked, walking over to where I was chopping vegetables at the counter. He stood behind me, his body only inches from mine, and something snapped. And it wasn’t just the pea pod I was holding…

I turned around, and my tummy actually fluttered at the sight of him. It freaking fluttered. I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling the strength there and the warmth of his skin through the cotton. Reason waved bye-bye, and this was now purely physical. An itch that needed to be scratched, scratched, and then scratched again. I slid my hand up around the back of his neck, and pulled him down to me. My lips crashed against his, my intense need for him pouring into his mouth and down to the tips of my toes. Toes that kicked off their flip-flops and started shamelessly rubbing themselves across the tops of his feet. My body needed to feel skin, any skin, and needed it now.

He responded, matching my rough kisses with his own, his mouth covering mine as I groaned at the feel of his hands on the small of my back. I quickly spun him around and pressed him up against the counter.

“Off! I need this off, now,” I muttered between kisses, yanking at his T-shirt. In a great whoosh of fabric, his shirt was thrown across the room as I maneuvered my body against his, sighing as I felt the contact. I was alternately trying to hug him and climb him, the lust now running freely through my body like a freight train. I reached between us and palmed him through his jeans. His eyes caught mine, and they crossed a little. I was on the right track. Feeling him getting harder by the second under my fingertips, suddenly all I wanted, all I needed, all I had to have to function in life, was him. In my mouth.

“Hey, Nightie Girl, what are you—oh God—”

Moving instinctively, I snapped open his jeans, dropped to my knees before him, and brought him forth. My pulse raced, and I think my blood actually boiled within me as I saw him. My breath drew in with a hiss as I regarded him, faded jeans pushed down just enough to frame this luminous sight.

Simon does commando. God bless America.

I wanted to be gentle, I wanted to be tender and sweet, but I simply needed him too badly. I glanced up at him, his eyes clouded but frantic, as his hands came down to brush my hair back from my face. I took his hands in my own and placed them back on the counter.

“You’re gonna want to hold on for this,” I promised. He groaned a delicious groan and, doing as he was told, leaned back a little. He pushed his hips forward, but kept his eyes on mine. Always on mine.

My lips purred as I slipped his length inside my mouth. His head dropped back as my tongue caressed him, taking him in deeper. The pure pleasure of this, the absolute pleasure of feeling his reaction to me was enough to make my head split in two. I drew him back out, letting my teeth just barely graze his sensitive skin as I saw him grip the edge of counter even harder. I ran my nails up the inside of his legs, pushing his jeans farther down for more access to his warm skin. Pressing kisses across the tip of him, I let my hands come up to grasp him, stroking and massaging. He was perfect, all smooth and taut as I took him in again, and again, and again. I felt crazed, drunk on his scent and the feel of him inside me.

He moaned my name over and over again, his words drifting down like molten chocolate sexy times, pouring inside my brain and dedicating every sense I had to him, only to him. On and on I went, making him crazy, making
me
crazy, licking, sucking, tasting, teasing,
luxuriating
in the madness that was this luscious act. To have him here, in this way, was the very definition of luxury.

He stiffened further, and his hands finally came back to me, trying to make me pull back.

“Caroline, oh, Caroline, I’m…you…first…you…oh, God…you,” he stuttered. Luckily, I was able to interpret. He wanted me to have something as well. What he didn’t realize is that this total abandon he was giving me was all I needed. I released him only for a moment, to place his hands once more on the counter.

“No, Simon. You,” I replied, taking him in deeply once more, feeling him hit the back of my throat as my hands tended to the rest of him that my mouth could not. His hips moved once, then again, and with a shudder and the most scrumptious groan I’ve ever heard, Simon came. Threw his head back, closed his eyes, and let go.

It was wonderful.

Moments later, crumpled into me on the floor of the kitchen, he sighed contentedly. “Good Lord, Caroline. That was…unexpected.”

I giggled, bending down to kiss his forehead. “I couldn’t control myself. You just looked way too good, and I…well…I got carried away.”

“I’ll say. Although I don’t think it’s fair that I’m somewhat exposed here, and you’re still fully clothed. We
could
remedy that pretty quickly, though.” He pulled at the drawstring on my pants.

I stopped him. “First of all, you aren’t
somewhat
exposed, you are hanging free on the kitchen floor, and I quite like it. And this wasn’t about me, although I admit I enjoyed it immensely.”

“Silly girl, now I want to enjoy
you
immensely,” he persisted, running his fingers along the edge of my pants, dancing across the skin there.

Nerves began to dance the flamenco, demanding more time—more time! Not ready! LC kicked some things. “No, no, not tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner. Let me take care of you a little bit. Can’t I just do that?” I removed his devil hands and kissed them.

He smiled up at me, his hair messy and a goofy grin still adorning his face. He sighed in defeat and nodded. I started to climb off the floor when he caught me around the waist, pulling me back down.

“A word, please, before you leave me—what did you say? Hanging free on the kitchen floor?”

“Yes, dear?” I asked, earning a raised eyebrow.

“So, using the base-rounding point of reference we’ve applied to this week, I’d say we just skipped ahead a few dates, yes?”

“I should say so.” I laughed, patting him lightly on the head.

“Then I think it’s only fair to warn you…Tomorrow night? Your last night in Spain?” he said, his eyes blazing through the twilight.

“Yes?” I whispered.

“I’m gonna try to steal home.”

I smiled. “Silly Simon, it’s not stealing if I wave you in,” I purred, kissing him solidly on the lips.

Later that night, as I lay wrapped thickly in Simon, LC began to prepare. And Brain and Backbone began to chant…O…O…O. Wang? Well, we knew where he was, pressed rather closely against Backbone.

Heart continued to float above, but was circling ever closer to home. However, an additional entity began to assert herself once again, trying to influence the others. She tinted my dreams with her quiet whispering.

Hello, Nerves.

My sleep was most decidedly…flaily.

Chapter Eighteen

“D
ID
Y
OU
A
LWAYS
K
NOW
you wanted to take pictures for a living?”

“What? Where did that come from?” Simon laughed, sitting back in his chair and looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

We were enjoying a lazy breakfast on my last day in Spain. Dark coffee, tiny little lemon cakes, freshly cut berries and cream, and a side of sunny coastline. Clad in Simon’s shirt and a smile, I was in heaven. Nerves seemed very far away this morning.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “Did you always want to do this? You seem, well, you’re very intense when you’re working. You seem like you really love it.”

“I do love it. I mean, it’s a job so it has its tedious moments, but yeah, I love it. It wasn’t something I always planned, though. In fact, there was a different plan altogether,” he replied, a dark look passing over his face.

“What does that mean?”

“For a long time I planned on following my father into his business.” He sighed, a rueful smile slipping into place.

My hand was in his before I even realized I’d offered it. He squeezed, and then took another sip of his coffee.

“Did you know Benjamin worked for my father?” he asked. “Dad hired him right out of school, mentored him, taught him everything. When Benjamin wanted to go out on his own, you’d think Dad would’ve been pissed, but he was so proud of him.”

“He’s the best.” I grinned.

“Don’t think I don’t know about the crush you girls have on him. I’m aware.” He gave me a stern look.

“I’d hope so. We’re not exactly subtle in our admiration.”

“Parker Financial Services was getting big, really big, and Dad wanted me to come onboard as soon as I was done with college. I honestly never thought I’d leave Philadelphia. It would have been a great life: working with my dad, country club, big house in the ’burbs. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Well…” I murmured. It was an idyllic life, for sure, but I couldn’t picture Simon there.

“I worked on our high school newspaper, taking pictures. I took the class as an easy A. You know, good for my transcript? But even though I got assignments like covering the women’s field hockey tryouts, I really liked it. Like,
really
liked it. I just figured it would always be a nice hobby. Never really thought about it as a career. My parents supported me, though, and my mom even got me a camera for Christmas that year—the year that…well…” He paused, clearing his throat a bit.

“Anyway, after everything happened with Mom and Dad, Benjamin came out to Philadelphia for the, um, for the funeral. He stayed for a while, got things in order, you know. He was the executor of my parents’ will. And since he was living out on the West Coast, well, the idea of staying behind in Philadelphia didn’t sound so great. So, long story short, Stanford accepted me, I started studying photojournalism, I got really lucky with some internships, and then right-place-right-time, and bam! That’s how I got into this gig,” he finished, dunking his cake and taking a bite.

“And you love it.” I smiled.

“And I love it,” he agreed.