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Gentle suction pulled at her restraint. The back and forth rub of firm masculine lips wore at her resolve. God, he was good. Patient and skilled and, if memory served, just getting started. Her pulse skittered faster, a needy ache throbbed low in her belly. Twisting tight.
Be strong.
Even if holding back nearly killed her, no one actually died from denial.
She could do it. She could outlast this one pleasured assault and walk away from the temptation of more. Secure the friendship she didn’t want to let go.
Keep Nate forever…
And never again feel the stroke of his tongue skimming the tight seam of her lips, pushing her molten core past containment, spilling liquid fire through her veins.
Oh, God, she couldn’t—shouldn’t.
His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, wound and pulled with a tension so deliciously forbidden there was nothing to do but open on a trembling gasp. And then he was sliding into her mouth—hot and wet—in a slow, measured thrust and retreat that wiped her mind of anything beyond more. Having as much of this kiss as she could for as long as he gave it.
His mouth angled, taking them deeper. Taking more. Taking everything.
She could still stop. Still have the security. Have what they’d had all those years before. Memories rose to fight each decadent thrust of his tongue: Nate with his arm around her as they watched TV on the couch; raking the yard with her; leaning over her shoulder to help with her homework; laughing, with his head back and eyes shut over some dumb joke.
Friendly memories. Warm.
Only there was a constant through each and every one she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge until now. As she’d laughed alongside him or taken his assistance with a grateful smile, through it all she’d been fantasizing about—aching for—a moment like the one she resisted now. Where Nate wanted more.
And in that instant she realized if she did the “right thing”, took the safe path, she’d be doing exactly what she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Living a lie. Pretending to be a friend when she wanted to be a lover. Forcing herself into a mold that didn’t fit.
She blinked, once, twice. Gave into the heavy weight of her lids and closed her eyes. Gave up her fight against an inevitable hurt and loss in the future and stopped resisting the want and need that was now.
Her eyes closed and her body went lax in his arms. It was as though she’d simply given up and Nate felt the loss of her fight like a blow to the gut.
He shouldn’t care. He never cared. Relationships and whatever came of them were simply what they were. Enjoyable until they weren’t. Always on his terms.
But not this time. This time it was out of his control and driving him nuts.
Didn’t she understand he couldn’t make himself see her in a platonic light? It wasn’t choice firing his blood at the sight of her alone?
Damn, he had to let go, get his head around the fact that he couldn’t have her.
His arms loosened their hold. His marauding mouth eased from its plunder as he drew back to break the kiss—the kiss that wouldn’t break because the lips he’d poured his every skill and desire into had followed his retreat.
His pulse jacked.
Slight hands balled against his chest, released, crept higher and balled again.
Was he reading this right?
He tried to pull back—to see her face—but those slim arms were wrapped around his neck, clutching and clinging tight as her fragile plea shattered against his lips. “Don’t stop.”
His breath rushed out on a groan that was relief and desire and victory all in one, and in a combination so potent it nearly took him to his knees. And then she was alive in his arms, opening wide beneath the crush of his kiss, taking everything he gave and demanding more. Meeting the thrust of his tongue with the stroke of her own so they mingled in a sensual dance that was hot and wet and urgent.
Rhythmic. Erotic.
And not nearly enough. Nothing was enough. No matter how he touched her, how she moaned against his lips, pushed and pulled at his clothing until it hung half free of his limbs, begged with quiet sobs as he worked past her panties, teasing one finger and then two through her slippery arousal, it wasn’t enough. He had to be inside her. Had to have her. Completely.
His body vibrated with need beyond control. Banding his arms across her back, he lifted her from her feet.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth rough against her throat as he moved to the couch.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, her hands grasping at his shoulders. Her knees settling into the leather at either side of him so her skirt rode up her thighs. Opening her to him.
Damn, he could feel her, soft and hot, through the damp swatch of her silk panties.
Pushing violently at his half-open fly, he freed himself, giving into the temptation of that fragile silk barrier. He palmed her bottom and guided her to the bare skin of his shaft. Had to grip the base of the couch when her hands clenched, her body tensing as she slid against the length of him.
“Don’t stop…” she breathed again, her words taking on a desperation that only fed the madness burning within his veins. Her hair hung wild and loose around her face, her breasts swayed half exposed from when they’d wrestled with the straps of her dress. Her eyes were dark, heavy lidded and pleading as she moved over the straining ridge of his erection. “I can’t stop.”
Too. Much.
Not. Enough.
Reason and restraint snapped. He had her beneath him, her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure that tore through his very soul as he pushed inside.
Wet friction embraced him. Took hold of his sanity and tossed it aside as he drew back and drove deep again, setting a relentless rhythm of triumph and possession.
He had her. Writhing beneath him. Coming apart around him. The clutch of her slick walls urging him to follow. She felt so good…too good…too good…
Nate froze.
Too good.
She felt too good because he wasn’t wearing a condom. Buried inside her, a hair’s breadth from release with the receding waves of Payton’s orgasm pulsing around him, he didn’t dare move.
Control. Where was his control?
His teeth ground together with a series of audible pops as he slowly withdrew. Images of the past six months sliding through his mind, gripping him like icy talons. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Nate?” Her hands smoothed down his chest, her eyes searching. Taunting him with a welcome he couldn’t accept. Yet.
“Condom, Payton,” he managed on a hoarse growl as he found the foil packet he’d never forgotten before.
“Thank God you remembered.” She shook her head, watching him as if he’d managed something remarkable. Well, he’d stopped in time. That was pretty damn remarkable. But the fact that he’d been inside her at all—
Never before. He’d never lost it like that. Never come so close to losing everything.
Never again.
Covering himself, he reached for her. “Now where were we?”
An hour later, they lay sprawled across Nate’s bed, naked beneath a blanket of moonlight. Payton traced patterns across his skin, circling this way and that. Her touch was light. Sweetly exploratory. And arousing all too soon after they’d collapsed together mere minutes before.
This was the point where he typically employed some trusty exit or eject strategy, but tonight the foundation of caring and history he had with Payton was throwing him off. Nothing within his arsenal of disentanglement techniques suitably handled the unprecedented situation with a woman whom was both lover and friend and who he had no intention of letting go. At least not any time soon.
Tucking his chin, he watched her fingertips walk the steps of his ribs, climb higher and then smooth across the center of his chest.
Maybe there wasn’t anything to handle at all. So long as he used his head and a measure of restraint, no one would get hurt.
Yes, he wanted her. Had nearly lost it when he thought he couldn’t have her. But even so, he knew himself—the kind of love that led to marriage and family wasn’t part of his makeup, and this wouldn’t last forever.
As though reading his mind, Payton turned her eyes, soft and vulnerable, to his. “What are we doing?” she asked quietly. “You didn’t want a relationship. You told me. So what is this?” Her question held no accusation, challenge or demand, just a need to know something he didn’t have the understanding to explain.
“No, I didn’t. But nothing turns out the way I expect with you. I think I know how something’s going to play and then suddenly I’m staring open-mouthed at a scenario I couldn’t have predicted. This, what’s between us—” he shook his head “—it’s not common in my life.”
“Mine either. But since neither of us seemed able to ignore it, let’s just enjoy it for as long as this lasts.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he saw the flicker of sadness—remorse maybe—that crept into her eyes. He wanted to make it go away. Only he couldn’t lie to her. Promise something they both knew wouldn’t happen.
What he could offer was the possibility of a scenario he very much hoped would become reality. He ran a finger along her jaw and tipped her face to his. “You know, just because we’re detouring through the jungle now, it doesn’t mean there won’t be a chance to veer back onto the main drag later.”
The fact that it hadn’t happened before didn’t guarantee it never would. This was Payton, after all, and the power of her optimistic determination knew no bounds.
She blinked up at him, her big brown eyes so wide with trust, once again taking him back through the years to a time when she was the only one who saw the potential in him—to her limitless faith.
He didn’t want to let her down. He’d almost done it tonight. Almost let them both down.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Payton, but I’ll always care for you.”
She nodded, letting her smile spread. “Then how about we forget about what might happen? Let the future take care of itself and, for now, we’ll have fun.”
She deserved better.
He couldn’t give it to her but neither could he let her go. So he shoved the bitter knowledge aside, focusing instead on the now. Payton in his bed. Smiling. Sexy and bare.
Chapter Thirteen
SATURDAY morning Payton emerged from Nate’s bedroom bleary-eyed and desperate for caffeine. Waking alone, she’d managed to locate her panties and Nate’s discarded tee shirt from the night before, but after minutes of fruitless searching for her jeans she abandoned the quest. Bare-legged, she padded down the hall following the fresh-brewed scent of dark roast coffee.
They’d been to a wine bar for dinner the night before and, though delicious, that third glass was wreaking havoc on her head this morning. Halfway through their first small plate of chorizo-stuffed dates, a couple of Nate’s friends had turned up and joined them bar-side. Not the society crowd Payton was so keen to get away from, just a wonderfully funny and intelligent couple Nate had known for years.
The tone of the evening had been set when Nate introduced her as his girlfriend and she’d choked on her drink and then flushed so red that no one could ignore it. Soon they’d all found themselves laughing about the label, swapping stories about Nate at various ages and overall having such a great time her shaky tolerance was the last thing on her mind.
After, Nate had brought her back to his apartment and proceeded to make love to her until the wee hours of the morning—which invariably had as much to do with the drag in her step as that last glass.
She turned into the kitchen, rubbed a lazy hand at her eye hoping Nate still found ‘puffy’ cute, and poured some coffee.
Nate’s voice sounded from the front room in a low rumble. Probably taking care of some business while she’d been dead to the world in his bed. But noting more rasp than usual, she wondered if perhaps he’d had a glass too many as well. Not likely. Nate didn’t get caught up in excess.
She took a steaming swallow, then cradled the mug at her chest to absorb the warmth both inside and out.
“So it’s true?” The demand filtered down the hall, sounding almost accusatory, and she considered returning to the bedroom. Maybe taking a shower while he wrapped things up.
Then…“Look, it just sort of happened. We haven’t talked since high school, but once we started…you remember what a cool girl she was. Fun, you know?”
She set the mug down on the counter harder than she’d intended, tried to steady it with clumsy hands. This conversation was about her. She stepped back to the hall. She definitely shouldn’t be listening in.
“Is it serious?” Her brow puckered at the croaked question and she slowed her steps. Visualizing Nate’s considering expression. What could he say? It had only been a week since their first night together. And yet they knew each other.
Nate’s exasperated sigh propelled her forward. Toward the conversation rather than away from it. She was in the apartment and he was talking about her. Better to let him know she was awake, before this became something uncomfortable between them. Only it wasn’t until she turned into the front room and encountered Nate’s clear blue eyes—on a face twenty-five years older than the one she went to bed with—that understanding came.
Nate’s father. Mr. Evans, seemingly paralyzed as he gaped with what she could only describe as open-mouthed appreciation at the region where her tee shirt ended and bare legs began.
Nate muttered a particularly colorful obscenity, stepping from behind his dad. “Morning, Payton.”
Before she could reply, the Evans elder regained use of his faculties, brows slamming down in an all too familiar scowl. He crossed his arms, turning to the younger version of himself, a man who left tycoons cowering, and demanded, “You couldn’t tell me she was here?”
Nate shrugged—shrugged!—and covered his stubbled jaw with one wide hand in a blatant effort to hide his growing smile. “I thought I could get you out before you caught us.”
“Uh-uh-umm-I—” She broke off, shaking her head, at a total loss for words as she stumbled back a few steps. Now she understood the dialog she’d overheard, and it was definitely a conversation she didn’t want to be a part of.
“Relax, Payton. He’s not going to call your mother.”
Thanks for that, Nate.
“Why don’t you get showered? Dad and I are going to run out and pick up a little breakfast. Wishbone sound good, Dad?”
The older man grunted. “That’ll do.”
Not for her it wouldn’t. “Uh, Nate, I actually need to…” She waved a hand around, casting about for a good excuse to get the heck out of there. Sitting around with Nate’s friends was one thing, but Mr. Evans? After he’d given her a B- in World Economics and busted her shacked up with his son? No, thank you. “I need to take care of that thing I told you I had to do today.”
Mr. Evans wasn’t impressed. And Nate simply shook his head with an expression that said, “Fat chance.”
“Give me a second with my dad here and I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” she managed, still on the brink of hyperventilating.
Time to flee. Be gone. Vamoose!
She’d finally tasted the mortification of being caught in a compromising position—something most people probably experienced back in high school—and she had no idea how she would survive it.
Nothing could be worse.
Desperate to make her exit, she hastily spun away—square into the jutting leg of the sideboard. Pain shot through her foot as she tripped forward with a sharp cry.
Sadly, not enough pain to block the two voices following in quick report.
“Oh, God in heaven.”
“Dad, turn around!” Nate begged, laughter lacing his plea.
Her eyes bugged and then pinched shut as her crouched position and the cool breeze across her backside registered. She grabbed for the hem of the tee shirt, tugging it down to cover the bit of hot pink lace she’d picked up to entertain Nate.
A peek out of one squinched eye at both Evans men doubled over ensured they were highly entertained. “This is not funny!”
