“Wow, you dream big.”
“Go big or go home,” he said with a shrug.
“Never going to happen.”
Sara’s silky blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder when she bent her head to inspect the remaining kernels of corn in the bowl. Steve balled his fingers into fists to keep from stroking her spun-gold tresses. “What do you want to do that you’ve never done?”
The question knocked the breath out of him.
I want to hold you and kiss you and tell you I love you. I want you to love me back. I want to make love to you so slow and soft you’ll beg me for more. I want to fuck you so hard you scream. Repeatedly.
The ache in his jaw told him he had to unclench his teeth. Pressure built in his lungs, forcing the oxygen issue.
“You mean like skydiving?” he asked, attempting a lighter tone.
“I mean in bed.” Sara placed the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. She brushed the curtain of golden hair over her shoulder and turned to face him. “Come on, tell me what your kink is,” she cajoled.
“Maybe I don’t have any kink.”
“No kink; got it.”
Steve felt his hackles rise, his masculine pride injured by her easy assumption. He gritted his teeth. The ball of uncertainty knotting in his stomach lodged like a rock, and the plush cushions of her couch became the proverbial hard place. “I said maybe,” he muttered, stalling for time.
“These are not hard questions,” she prodded. “What do you think about? What gets you hot? Is there something that scares you just enough to get you off?”
Weak. Her probing questions made him feel weak. How do you tell a woman with such a vivid imagination that your wildest fantasy includes waking up with her in the morning and the possibility of a passel of kids someday?
Not that he had anything against hot sex. He liked it. A lot. How could he possibly explain that he nearly incinerated each time she simply touched him? He had no good answer, so he made a desperate grab for the safety of argument. Fixing her with a pointed stare he drawled, “Sugar, just because I fantasize about doing something, doesn’t mean I haven’t already done it.”
Sara blinked. Confusion clouded her brilliant blue eyes only to be chased away by a flash of anger. “Fine.”
He bit back a smile. The waspish tone of her voice unleashed a smidgen of joy. Happiness was quickly squelched when, like a dog worrying a bone, she kept after him.
“What gets you hot?”
“You.” He met her frank stare, daring her to argue with his assertion.
Sara rolled her eyes, plucked the remote from her lap, and pointed it at the television. “Fine. Watch the stupid movie,” she muttered, lunging for the bowl again.
“I’m just being honest with you.”
“You’re being evasive.”
“I am not,” he scoffed. “You asked what gets me hot—you do. You want to know what scares me just enough to get me off; that’s you too. Fantasies? I’ve fantasized about being with you a thousand times, Sara, and that’s probably just in the last year.”
He grabbed the remote from her lap and killed the power on the television without a glance.
“Why me?” she asked.
The breathless whisper of her voice made a lump rise in his throat. Words gathered like pebbles, piling up against the knot of fear that kept him silent. He swallowed them, attempting to force the lump down too.
“Looked in a mirror lately, Sugar?”
“Sugar? I thought I was darlin’.”
“Right now, you’re annoying as all hell,” he grumbled.
“I’m only trying to get you to talk to me. We haven’t talked much lately.”
He gaped at her, the injustice of her accusation setting alarm bells ringing in his head. “I’ve been here every night this week!”
“And we haven’t been talking.”
“What? Is that my fault?”
“No, I’m just saying that conversation hasn’t been high on the list of things to do.”
He ran his hand through his hair then pushed off of the couch. “We haven’t been together long enough to be having this fight.”
Sara pounced. “Together? Are we together?”
The scoff in her voice cut him to the quick. He gaped at her. His brain sent the order to shut his mouth, but he was pretty damn sure his yap was still hanging wide open. Neurons fired, his fingers clenched into a fist, and he snapped his jaw shut. Sara stared up at him, her gaze clear, direct, and breathtakingly cool.
A white-hot flash of purely irrational jealousy rushed through him, but when he spoke, his tone was icy. “Maybe we’re not. Maybe I’m not the only
muse
you have.”
“Well, Sharon Stone hasn’t been around, if that’s what you’re wondering…”
Her flip answer set his teeth on edge. “Exactly how many guys are participating in your little focus group?”
“Not funny,” she snarled.
“No, it’s not, considering we haven’t exactly been investing in latex!”
She launched herself from the sofa. “Fuck you!”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, you have,
darlin’
,” he drawled. “Every night this week.”
“Not tonight,” she shot back.
He closed the distance between them in one long stride. “You workin’ the others in during the day?”
The crack of her palm hitting his cheek jolted them both back to their senses. Sara stared down at her open hand, blinking in bewilderment at the deep pink staining her skin.
Steve rubbed his fingers over his stubbled jaw and spit out the only words that came to mind. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve never hit anyone before. Not even Adam,” she murmured, her attention absorbed by the reddened palm of her hand. “I didn’t like him as much as I like you.” Sara raised her head, a thin sheen of tears filming her eyes as she met his gaze.
Steve cringed. Blue flames of defiance blazed in her eyes. “Sara, I—”
“There’s no one else.”
“I know that.”
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “You do? How do you know? I could be—”
“I know you.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair once again. “I do, and I’m sorry. I was a million miles out of line.”
“Not every day your best friend calls you a whore,” she mumbled. Steve hung his head. “Of course, you didn’t say I was getting paid for it, so I guess that makes me a slut, not a whore.”
Steve closed his eyes, letting the air seep from his lungs and pushing it out through his nose. “What are we doing here?” His voice cracked, but at that moment he was beyond caring.
He opened his eyes to find Sara staring at him, her eyes wide. “We’re, uh...”
When she trailed off, he shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know, either.”
“Steve.”
“I should go home.”
“But... No! Don’t go! Don’t go, it’s just a...This is stupid,” she said. Sara’s hands splayed. Her tone was imploring, but her eyes were wary.
“Maybe we’ve spent too much time together.”
“I like spending time with you.” She took a hasty step forward then drew up just short of touching him. “That’s my point. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, but it’s not the same kind of time we used to spend.”
Her blunt assessment made him chuckle. Steve ran his palm over the back of his neck, his fingers kneading the tense muscles there. “Here I was feeling pretty good about not having to fight the urge to stick my tongue down your throat.”
Her laugh came sharp and brittle. “Oh, so you think you can stick your tongue down my throat whenever you want?”
He worked his smile into a leer. “Yes, ma’am.”
A shaft of pain lanced his heart. Drawing a deep breath he let his head fall forward. He pressed his lips together and gave voice to his deepest fear. “That’s the thing…It can’t be the same, Sara.”
“Why not? I mean, we’re still friends, right? I care about you, you care about me…Why can’t we just have this little bit more?”
“It complicates things.”
Sara turned away, her jaw tensing as she glared at the television screen. “It doesn’t have to complicate things,” she whispered at last. When she faced him again, her aqua eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I promise I won’t let anything screw this up. Not even a good screw,” she added with a watery laugh. “You’re too important to me. I need you to be my friend.”
Friend. He swallowed the word, forcing it down like a spoonful of bitter medicine. For eight years he had been her friend. Now, after nearly a decade of dreaming of Sara, he was also her lover and Steve wasn’t sure it could be enough. She wanted a friend and a lover, but he needed so much more. More than she may be able to give him. Ignoring the hopeful gleam in her eyes, he ducked behind the last shred of his pride. “I should go home. I haven’t really been home in days.”
“Just ‘til the end of the movie?”
He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing damn well how the rest of the evening would go. They’d settle back on the sofa, and she would shift a little closer to him. He’d smell her perfume, kiss her lips… His tongue would slide against hers, and the next thing he knew, he’d be slipping inside her. It would happen, and he’d never be able to resist. He didn’t want to resist.
Sara dropped onto the couch and curled her legs under her. The ends of her hair clung to the cushions, and the faded pink t-shirt she wore molded to her curves. She wet her lips and reached for the popcorn bowl, cradling it in her lap again before looking up at him expectantly.
The strength to resist escaped him. His feet carried him back to the couch. She leaned in to kiss him, and his senses reeled when he tasted the traces of salt, butter, and too easily won forgiveness on her lips.
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, drawing away.
Steve licked his lips and cleared his throat. Draping his arm over her shoulders, he pulled her close. “Where’s the remote?”
“I think you’re sitting on it.”
He grunted, loosened his hold on her, and shifted to free the controller from under his ass. Sara took it from him, and the television sprang to life once more. She smiled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck when his arm tightened again. Her breathy laugh skittered across his skin.
“How about that? Something nice and hard, pressing against your ass—did you like that? Did it feel good?” she teased.
“Hush up.”
“Did it turn you on?”
Steve kissed her hard, effectively cutting off her line of questioning. “No. You couldn’t be more wrong if you tried, darlin’,” he drawled. “Want me to show you what turns me on?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Steve plucked the remote from her hand, switched off the television, and tossed it onto the coffee table. When he offered his hand, Sara stared at it blankly. “What?”
He waggled his fingers. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“I’m going to show you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Now?”
“Well, you keep asking.”
The impatience in his tone seemed just enough to snap her from her daze. Sara slipped her hand into his and he pulled her from the sofa. Steve covered the distance to her bedroom with long, easy strides, determined to prove his point once and for all.
He stopped next to the bed and promptly stripped off his sweater. Her lips twitched, a smile of surprise and appreciation threatening to smother the curious skepticism in her eyes. Capturing her hand, he pressed her palm to his chest, holding it there until her fingers fanned across his skin. When he reached for her free hand she gave it willingly.
“You wanna know what turns me on?” he asked in a deep, dangerous rasp. Steve pressed her other hand to the bulge beneath his fly.
“Yes.”
Her breathless whisper shot straight to his groin. “Say my name, Sara.”
“Steve.”
Steve closed his eyes as his heart fluttered. He envisioned the battered organ bouncing off his ribcage in a frantic flurry of bat wings. “Did you feel that?” Without waiting for her answer, he peeled her hand from his chest and raised it to his lips. “I wasn’t lyin’. It’s you, Sara.”
The words whispered across her palm and tickled his cheek. He thrust his hips, arching into her eager grasp. “I fantasize about you.” The words came slow and slurred, as thick on his tongue as molasses. “I think about you touching me.” Her fingers curved over the ridge of denim and his head fell back as he groaned. “I’ve jerked off dreamin’ about being in your mouth.”
“You do?”
He forced himself to meet her gaze. “More times than I can count.”
“Me,” she whispered in an awed tone.
“You, Sara.” Brushing her hand away, he freed the top button on his jeans. The rest followed in a series of pops punctuated with a sigh. “You are my kink.”
She snickered and pushed her hands into the loosened waistband, cupping his ass. “I’m kink?”
“I’ve got a fetish for you,” he said, staring straight into those blue-green eyes. “I’ll do anything you want, anytime, anywhere.”
Sara smiled and worked the jeans down over his hips. “Don’t tease me.”
He held her gaze steadily. He lowered his hands to his sides, curling his fingers loosely into his palms “Turn me on, Sara. Touch me... Tease me until I can’t take it anymore.”