Summer Kisses (264 page)

“Improvisation is good.” She clutched his head, unsure whether she wanted to pull him to her or push him away. His mouth caressing her intimately was a much-anticipated fantasy. One that had kept her awake for several nights and was totally outside her limited experience.

“Sometimes, improvisation is the best.” He kissed a path across her stomach and dipped his tongue into her navel.

She trembled.
Too much!
Definitely too much. But she wanted what was coming next. She feared it. She doubted if she could live without it. Still... She made a half-hearted attempt to delay. “But anticipation is good, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Love anticipation.” He nestled his face against the triangle of curls and let his tongue tease her slick flesh. “But I love the taste of you more.”

His mouth took her then and caressed her at the exact spot where every sensation pooled. She didn’t know she could
feel
this much.
It’s too much.
Too much.
The refrain repeated in her head with the rhythm of his tongue against her until too much was not nearly enough.

She sucked great gulps of air into her lungs as the pressure built and her fists tightened in his hair. As his tongue rasped over her faster and faster, her climax came closer and closer. She felt hot all over and dizzy, and so,
so
good. She tensed and arched her hips against him, shouting her release as her orgasm slammed into her, overwhelming and compacting all other sensations into one powerful, defining focus. She surfed the wave of the moment, longing for it to last forever.

Her knees had never failed her before, but now, they buckled. Only her grip on his muscular shoulders kept her from crumbling into a heap. Light-headed, she eased to the floor in front of him, thighs straddling thighs, forehead touching forehead. Shaken, she couldn’t speak. If he made a wisecrack, she’d smack him.

He leaned back a fraction and looked at her, his eyes filled with wonder. His fingers went to her cheeks, touching the moisture she hadn’t realized was there. “Hey, you’re not supposed to cry. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Good is such an inadequate word.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “That far exceeded good. Thank you.”

Encircling her in his arms, he rocked her back and forth while she fought to control her unruly emotions.

“You’re—I never—Oh, my.” She paused to catch her breath. “
That
was incredible.”

“Have you never done
that
before?”

Reduced to a physical and emotional puddle, she could only shake her head.

“Why not? You obviously enjoyed it.”

Why not, indeed? It seemed disrespectful to think of her husband and compare him unfavorably. “My husband was older. Very dignified, very reserved.”

“Very boring.”

“Not boring,” The disloyal thought shamed her. “He just wasn’t as interested or comfortable with sex as you are.”

“Was he gay?”

“No!”

“Then there’s no excuse.”

She remembered the nights Carl came to bed, pajama-clad. He’d reach for her and enter her so silently, so distantly. They’d never shared this kind of pleasure in their intimacy. Even though it had been less than fulfilling for her, she’d thought she might be the one who was lacking. She never realized how much laughter and emotion could be shared in the moment. “I don’t think he would have enjoyed it.”

“He should have.” The color of Max’s dark eyes deepened. “You’re incredible, you know. You should be with someone who appreciates you.”

She covered her ears with her hands. “Don’t say anything more about him.”

“Sorry. You’re right. It’s not my place to talk about the things your husband did or didn’t do for you.” Max cupped her cheeks in his palms, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. “But don’t waste any more of your life limited by someone else’s boundaries, okay?”

He looked so serious, so adorable with his gaze locked on hers. He’d opened doors to sensual thresholds she’d only read about. Drawn to him on emotional levels he wouldn’t welcome, she opened her mouth to express feelings he wouldn’t want to hear. As if reading her mind, he touched his fingers to her lips and shook his head.

She swallowed and formed the most difficult words of the night. Words that just might be necessary to her self-preservation. “Maybe you should go.”

“Go?” His eyebrows shot up. “No way, lady. I promised you all night, and you promised me an omelet.”

An omelet. That put things into perspective.

If he could be nonchalant, so could she.

Even if it killed her. 

Relieved to escape getting the boot, Max peered out of the blinds in Annabel’s bedroom. The limo remained in the driveway. While he and Annabel had screwed one another upside down and sideways, the persistent drizzle had escalated into an all-out storm, complete with window-rattling thunder and lightning.

Annabel slipped into some purple shorts and a silky top that were too revealing to be anything other than underwear, but way too delicious to be covered up by regular clothes. With an intimate smile, she took his hand and led him downstairs.

“Do you know who makes the best Denver omelet in Cincinnati?” They arrived for his first visit to her kitchen. Nice, efficient, tidy. Just as he expected, the counters gleamed. Not even a dirty fork lurked in the sink. He’d see about changing that.

“Duffy’s on the River?”

“No, Ms. Smarty Pants.” He slipped his fingers into the waist of her little shorts and snapped the elastic. “I do.”

“Oh, really? Then wash your hands and get to work.” She retrieved an armload of ingredients from the refrigerator, laying them out precisely on the counter. “I’ll make the bacon and toast.”

“And coffee. We have to have coffee.”

Pointing to the kettle, she wrinkled her nose. “Not tea?”

He scoffed. “Tea’s for wimps. If we’re going to stay busy all night, we need high-octane caffeine.”

“Good point.” She reached into the pantry for K-cups.

Her skimpy top rode up her back, exposing a flash of smooth skin. He gravitated forward to wrap his arms around her waist. She deftly avoided him and shoved the chopping board and a knife into his hands.

He attacked a green pepper with his usual fervor. He didn’t cook often, but when he did, he put a lot of energy into it. After several strips of green pepper sailed across the chopping block and onto the floor, Annabel crossed her arms and pretended to glare at him.

“What?” He tossed an onion over his shoulder and caught it behind his back. “You’ve never seen anyone cook before?”

“Not with such abandon.” She shoved a bowl his way. “Here. You break the eggs. I’ll finish chopping. It worries me to see you wielding a sharp object.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she proceeded to lay strips of peppers side by side and cut them into uniform squares. Next, he figured she’d measure them with a slide rule.

Planning to wow her with his proudest kitchen accomplishment, he picked up an egg in each hand, tapped both against the side of the bowl, and then cracked them open at the same time. The egg-innards slid into the bowl. He deftly pitched the shells into the trash with a basketball hook shot. He looked up to see if she’d caught his grandstanding.

She had. Pushing him aside, she chased a minuscule shell fragment around the bowl with a spoon. “I see you like your omelets crunchy.”

“You don’t worry about a few eggshells, do you?” He trapped the speck beneath a fingertip and flicked it aside. “A little roughage is good for you.”

“Uh huh.” She pursed her lips together, obviously trying to keep herself from either scolding him or laughing. He wondered which one.

She followed along behind him after that, taking over every task he started, from whisking the eggs to adding the splash of hot sauce. When he prepared to flip the omelets without benefit of a spatula, she took the pan away from him. “I’ll do it. You go butter the toast.”

“You know what your problem is?” he asked as they sat down to eat. “You’re a control freak with no sense of adventure.”

“Really?” She looked around at the chaos he’d made of her formerly spotless kitchen. “And you’re a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I might be messy, but I’m fun.”

“True.” She hid a yawn behind her hand.

“Sleepy?”

“A little. I’m not used to staying up all night, are you?”

“It happens.” Just the night before he’d stayed up until dawn on a pointless stakeout. But even that was more productive than most of his all-nighters. “Can you sleep late tomorrow?”

She frowned at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost two A.M. So, tomorrow is already today, and I have a yoga class at nine.” She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “I might have to skip that. What are your plans?”

“I’m running in a charity race at eight. What about in the afternoon?”

“Attending a tea at The Conservatory. Are you riding with the motorcycle club?”

“Not until Sunday. Tomorrow afternoon I have tickets to see the Reds.”

“Can you rest after that?”

Rest on a Saturday night? Not until he was dead. “Nah, it’s my poker night. Will you be turning in early?”

“Probably, but first, I have to go visit my aunt in the hospital.”

Man, we
really
don’t have anything in common
.
Too bad.
Things had gone so well between them tonight. He’d like to spend more time with her, but didn’t have to be hit over the head to see that their schedules and interests didn’t coincide anyplace but in bed. That might be enough for him, but he had a feeling she’d want more.

And he was surprised to note, he kind of wanted more, too.

She popped a piece of bacon into her mouth and followed it with her last bite of egg. Holding her coffee cup in one hand, she rested her chin on the heel of the other. She beamed at him, and the warmth of her smile caressed him from across the table. And his immediate physical reaction didn’t have a thing to do with the cleavage peeking at him over the plunge of her purple silk tank.

Realizing it had been too long since he’d touched her, he pushed his chair back, prepared to change that.

“You
do
make the best omelet in Cincinnati.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am.” Moving to stand behind her, he adopted an exaggerated aw-shucks stance. “But you did all the work.”

She leaned her head back and smiled at him upside down. “I’d say we did it together. We made a good team.”

He pressed a kiss to her soft lips. She tasted of coffee and strawberry jam, and he let his mouth linger. Without breaking contact, he pivoted to kneel beside her. She enclosed him in her sweet-smelling embrace.

“Know what we should do now?” His voice was a whisper as his lips moved on hers.

“Clean the kitchen?”

“Sure, let’s do that.” He moved to cup her breasts, feeling the weight in his palms. “Later.”

She sighed with pleasure as he teased first one and then the other with his mouth, dampening the thin material. With his tongue coaxing her nipples to hard points, his hands moved a slow path from ribs to hip to inner thigh. He felt her twitch with impatience, but he intended to prolong the game of stimulation indefinitely.

Each time they’d been physical, he’d given her something different.

This time, he wanted her to have a total out-of-body experience.  From nibbling her earlobes to her toes, he didn’t want her to miss a thing. He fully intended to linger...
everywhere
.

“Ma-ax?” Her voice came out a throaty croak.

“Hmmm?” He nuzzled the valley between her breasts.

“Please.”

“Please what, darlin’?”

“Just do it.”

“Anna-honey,” he drawled over a slow smile, “this isn’t a sixty-second sneaker commercial. We’ve got all night, remember?”

He continued his slow exploration until she groaned with frustration. Finally, when he allowed himself to rake the material aside with his teeth and take the inviting peak into his mouth, he realized he’d pushed her too far. She reached down and touched his erection, her hand trailing the length of the hard heat that sat up and begged for her attention. With each tentative stroke, his desire intensified.

Tired of waiting for him to give her what she wanted, she put her other hand between her legs and rubbed her own sweet spot. He about lost control. Damn it, watching sweet, almost inexperienced Annabel touch herself was about the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

He reached out and pushed the dishes aside. Putting his hands around her waist, he lifted her from the chair to the tabletop.

His pulse hammered in his head.

His ears began to buzz.

He paused for a second to get a grip, but it was impossible not to enjoy the delectable picture she made laid back across the table, with her hand inside her purple panties, fingering herself. Sweet Jesus. He broke out in a sweat.

The buzz persisted as he slid the panties down her legs.

He shook his head and it persisted still. “Well, hell. It’s my phone.” He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the phone and condom. He checked the text and groaned. He’d half expected this message all week, so of course this is when it would come, just when Annabel was about to come, too. He placed the rubber in the palm of Annabel’s free hand and closed her fingers around it. “Hold onto this and don’t stop what you’re doing. I’ll be right back.”

Not wanting her to overhear this conversation, he hit Mercer’s number and moved painfully into the foyer.

“Damn it,” he growled into the phone. “Does it have to be now?”

“Nope.” The voice grated against his ear like gravel in a cement mixer. “If you don’t want the proof you need...”

“Are you sure this time?” Max demanded. “Or will it be another waste of time like before?”

“Hey, these guys aren’t the bus company. They don’t print a schedule. The truck is pulling up to the warehouse now. Get your ass over here if you want to get pictures.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“I’ll need my money.”

Max cursed again. “You’ll get it when I’ve got my story.”

Despite his frustration with the timing, his pulse kicked up at the thought of finally exposing these assholes. He wanted to bust these guys. The exposure would do more for his career opportunities than winning some award. He took a second to call Roger to tell him where to meet him downtown.