Anything For You (17 page)

“When do you want to leave?” Sam asked, completely committed to the idea now.

Delaney felt a surge of unease. Was she coercing him too much, doing it this way? But the thought of coming right out with her agenda and laying her cards on the table so blatantly made her knees turn to water. So, maybe she was a sneak. But she was a desperate sneak, with mostly good motives. And it wasn’t like she was conning Sam into two days in the salt mines of Siberia.

“Um, how about we ditch work early tomorrow. Maybe around four?” she suggested.

“Great. It’s a date,” Sam said.

Immediately he seemed to regret the inadvertent connotation of what he’d said, because he shifted uneasily in his chair. “I mean, it’s not a date. But you’re on,” he said awkwardly.

She just smiled at him.

Don’t give yourself too hard a time, Sam, she thought as she walked away. You’re more on the money than you know.

SAM SQUINTED THROUGH the windshield at the rusty road sign coming up on their left.

“Is this it?” he asked.

They’d been trawling through the unsealed back roads of Daylesford—about an hour’s drive north of Melbourne—for the past twenty minutes. Getting to the small country town itself had been easy—it was a popular tourist destination thanks to the large gay population that had adopted the town, ushering in a new era of funky restaurants and great food, and the roads were excellent. But they’d left the township behind long ago, and were now thick in the bush, driving up rutted dirt road after rutted dirt road, following the instructions Delaney had been given by the real estate agent.

“Yes!” Delaney said, punching the air. “Turn left here.”

Sam spun the wheel, the SUV’s tires slipping on the gravel road. Delaney hung on and gave a little whoop of excitement. He couldn’t help smiling himself, even though he’d been feeling increasingly tense the closer they got to their destination.

What had he been thinking, committing to spending a whole weekend away with Delaney to renew the bonds of their platonic friendship? Was he certifiably insane? He’d fooled himself into thinking that it was a smart idea for the bulk of Thursday and Friday, then he’d come downstairs from his apartment to pick Delaney up this afternoon to find her wearing a pair of short shorts, a tiny tank top and a pair of strappy sandals. Instantly he’d understood that getting their friendship back onto its proper footing was going to require a Ghandi-like display of moral fiber. That he didn’t possess that kind of self-control did not surprise Sam—and it didn’t bode well for a successful weekend, either. What was Delaney going to think of him when he was walking around with a permanent hard-on for two days running?

And there was no doubt in his mind that she was utterly convinced that this weekend was going to cure whatever ailed their friendship. She’d been positively beaming since he’d committed to coming, the old bounce back in her step as she went about her business in the office. Although, now that he thought about it, she’d been a little quieter since they’d started driving. Maybe she, too, was beginning to realize that the weekend might pose some pitfalls in terms of willpower? He shot a sideways look at her as she stared pensively out the side window. It was obvious to him that she wasn’t exactly unmoved by him on a sexual level. It had definitely taken two to tango every time they’d come together. In fact, that time in his apartment, when she’d caught him unexpectedly naked, it had been the raw lust in her eyes that had driven his own desire beyond the bounds of self-control.

So this was a two-way street, this thing between them. But he also had no doubt that Delaney wanted to erect a roadblock. She had plans, and they didn’t include him in her bed. Hence this weekend away.

“Here’s the driveway,” Delaney said, and he turned left into yet another rutted, gravel road.

Gum trees lined either side of the road, and then they rounded a curve and found their weekend hideaway—a charming mud-brick house set on a natural step in the hillside. It had a stone-built chimney on the outside, and a large claw foot bathtub occupying pride of place on the front deck.

It looked just about perfect—for a weekend of pure, unadulterated torture. He shot Delaney another sideways look. Did she have any idea how romantic this place was?

She got out of the car first, pausing for a moment to tug her shorts into place. Sam groaned low in the back of his throat as he stared at her ass. He was such a goner.

Delaney looked back at him over her shoulder. Her toffee-brown eyes were unreadable as she offered a small, nervous smile.

“Looks pretty nice, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed dryly.

Sighing heavily, he levered himself out of the car and grabbed their luggage from the back hatch. Delaney took her own overnight bag—she never let him carry her gear—and he scooped up his backpack and the bags of groceries Delaney had brought with her.

She led the way to the front door, and within seconds they were walking into a large room with a high, open-beamed ceiling. To one side, a sink and small counter denoted the kitchen, and in the corner was a door that he guessed must lead to the bathroom. The rest of the room was dominated by the open fireplace and an enormous bed. Frowning, Sam dumped his load and put his hands on his hips.

“This is it? There’s no more?” he asked.

Delaney smoothed her hands down the sides of her legs, clearly as unsettled as he was by the fact that there was only one bed.

“The real estate agent must have made a mistake,” he said, pulling his mobile phone out of his back pocket. He had no idea if they could get service out here in the bush, but he had to give it a shot because there was no way he could share a bed with Delaney for a whole weekend and keep the promise he’d made to himself.

“Um, it’s not a mistake,” Delaney said quietly.

Sam froze in the act of dialing the number. “Sorry?”

“I said it’s not a mistake. I picked it deliberately.”

Sam just stood there, immobilized by the many and varied thoughts rampaging through his brain.

“Sam, the past few weeks, we seem to keep…you know…” she said, indicating with her hand that she was referring to them having jumped on each other’s bodies at every given opportunity. “So there’s obviously something going on between us. Don’t you think?”

Sam could only nod. For some reason, he was finding it very difficult to breathe.

“And you know I have plans to find a husband and start a family. At the moment, this thing between us is kind of muddying the water. And it’s making us fight all the time. So I figured that maybe we should just…get it out of our systems,” Delaney finished in a rush.

She was flushed, and he watched, fascinated, as she lifted the hair from the back of her neck nervously.

“What do you think?” she asked when he’d been silent for too long.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” he asked carefully, keeping a very tight rein on himself until he heard what he needed to hear.

“That we have this weekend. No holds barred. Just you and me and that big bed. And then we draw a line under it, and it’s done. Finished, out of the way,” she said boldly.

The nervousness had left her now, he saw. In fact, if he was any guess, she was pretty damn excited. Which was good, because he was just about to explode he was so turned on.

“What do you say, Sam?” she asked, her eyes daring him to accept.

“Get your clothes off, you won’t be needing them for a while.”

Determined to take things slowly this time, she slid her hands across his shoulders, measuring their width, adoring their strength. Hands mapping each sexy centimeter, she slid her palms down his back, pressing against his firm muscles as Sam began kissing her neck.

“I love it when you do that,” she moaned, and Sam pulled her closer still, pressing his hips against hers.

He was as hard as a rock, and she tilted her hips to let him know that he wasn’t the only one who was seriously aroused. He grunted his approval, his hands sliding down her back and under her waistband. He stilled for a second, pulling back to look down into her face.

“No underwear?” he asked, his expression one of comic disbelief.

“Nope.”

“For how long? All day? Please don’t tell me you were commando all day and I didn’t notice,” Sam groaned.

“Only since I changed after work,” she said, laughing at his chagrin.

His big hands curled over her bare butt inside her shorts, pulling her against him even more firmly.

“This caboose should be registered as the eighth wonder of the world,” he said as he massaged her sensually.

Delaney slid her hands to his rear, grabbing a tight male butt cheek in each hand.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, scattering kisses down the tanned column of his throat. Opening her mouth, she swirled her tongue against his skin and he shuddered.

“You’re right, that is good,” he said, then she let out a whoop of surprise as he bent down to scoop her up in his arms. Taking two impatient strides to the bed, he threw her on it unceremoniously and started tearing his clothes off.

“I really want to go slow. Taste every part of you. Make it last for hours. But not just now,” he said as he shoved his jeans down his legs.

Delaney was already wriggling out of her shorts and tugging her tank top over her head. “Couldn’t agree more,” she said.

Then Sam was on the bed, pressing the full length of his naked body against hers. It was the first time they’d made it to a bed, and she gloried in the heady feel of his skin on hers.

“Good, huh?” Sam said, echoing her thoughts.

“The best,” Delaney murmured, pulling his head down for a kiss.

The rest was a blur. Both of them were so hot for it, foreplay was virtually nonexistent as Sam entered her with a single, powerful stroke. She almost came just from having him inside her, and from then on it was a fierce, wild ride as they both raced to the finish line. They found it simultaneously, Sam’s hips shuddering into hers even as she cried out in climax.

It seemed to get better and better between them. And the best part was that afterward, neither of them felt the need to run away. This time, Sam lay on his belly beside her, one hand still wrapped around her waist, his fingers drawing idle circles on the tender skin of her belly.

She wanted to revel in the feeling, but she felt so content, so replete, that her eyelids were soon drooping down toward her cheeks. She could feel Sam’s body relaxing beside her, too, and she snuggled into the pillow.

“Sleepy,” she murmured as Sam opened his eyes and smiled faintly at her.

“Me, too. Haven’t exactly been getting a solid eight hours lately,” he said.

“Me either,” she said without thinking.

Sam’s smile broadened into a grin, and the hand on her waist spread wider as he pulled her to him possessively.

“Tell me it was because you were thinking about me,” he said.

Delaney didn’t know what to say. Admit the truth and risk Sam guessing her secret? Or lie, and break the spell they seemed to have fallen under since they walked in the door?

“Tell me, Delaney,” Sam said mock-sternly. “Tell me you were thinking about me doing this.”

He ducked his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. Dancing his tongue across it firmly, he nipped her lightly.

“And this,” he murmured sexily as his hand smoothed its way down her belly and into the moist curls between her thighs. Delaney bit her lip as one of his fingers delved into her sensitive folds to find her clitoris.

Eyes intent on her face, Sam slicked a finger across the sensitive bud. Unbelievably, given the incredible orgasm she’d just had, Delaney felt the familiar tension rising inside her again.

Eyes dropping to half-mast, she spread her thighs wider, hungry for more of his touch.

Sam seemed happy to oblige. Lavishing attention on her breasts with his mouth, he drove her wild with his deft stroking between her legs. Only when she was shivering and shifting needfully on the sheets did he stop, rousing her from the sensual haze she’d fallen into.

“Say it, Delaney,” Sam ordered again, and Delaney was so close, so desperate for release, that she confessed the truth.

“Yes, I was thinking about you. About this,” she breathed.

Sam looked so smug and self-satisfied that she couldn’t help but add a rider. “And I thought about Jake. And that guy I was seeing last year, Tim,” she said lightly. “And there was this photo of Eric Bana in the latest issue of Cosmo…”

Sam froze for a breath, then his hand began to move between her legs with renewed intent.

“You’re lying,” he said as Delaney began to gasp with need. “Tell me it was only me.”

She nearly rocketed off the bed as Sam pressed the whole of his palm against her clitoris and mons, rocking it skillfully. Fulfillment was on the horizon, just a few seconds away, when Sam stopped again, his hand curving till it was doing nothing but cupping her heat.

“Sam! Please!” she begged, wriggling her hips desperately.

“Say the magic words, Delaney,” Sam instructed.

Delaney looked up into his laughing face, desperate for what he’d promised, knowing somehow that this was a joke but also very serious.

“Only you, Sam,” she finally whispered. A look of fierce satisfaction crossed his face, and he dropped his head to begin ravishing her breasts again, his mouth firm and delicious on her nipples. Between her legs, his palm began to rock again, and Delaney was powerless to stop her hips thrusting off the mattress as desire coalesced within her.

“Yes, Sam, yes! Yes!” she cried out, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other clasping his shoulder fervently.

Sam waited until she’d ridden it out before removing his hand from between her legs. She was boneless and exhausted, and she could see that Sam was feeling very proud of himself.

“Sleep with one eye open, Kirk,” she warned him.

“Excellent. I look forward to a counterassault,” Sam said cockily.

“You say that now. Wait until I’ve got you in my mouth, just about to explode,” she threatened.

Sam’s eyes darkened. “Tell me more.”

Delaney smiled, realizing that she had him hooked already. Too easy!

“Not just yet. I might take a little nap. Then maybe we can discuss it some more,” she said, rolling onto her belly and punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape.

Sam swore under his breath.

“Pace yourself, Sam. I haven’t even started yet,” she said, smiling into her pillow.

They had all weekend. Two nights and nearly two glorious days to tease and taunt each other as much as they liked. More than enough time to purge herself of sixteen years of fantasizing and obsessing, leaving her free to move on, at last, and build her new life.

Must remember to thank Claire for giving such good advice, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

SAM WOKE FROM A DOZE to find that Delaney had pulled on her tank top and shorts and was searching through the bags of food.

His eyes widened as he saw her remove a punnet of dip and a long, flat loaf of Turkish bread from one of the bags.

“Tell me that is not from Golden Towers,” he said, naming their favorite Turkish restaurant in the inner-west Melbourne suburb of Brunswick.

“There is no substitute,” she said as she added a container of stuffed olives to the selection, along with a serving of tabouli.

Sam gave her an appreciative look. “Your future husband is the luckiest bastard on the planet,” he said lightly.

“When I find him, your job is to keep telling him that for the next fifty years,” she said after a small pause.

Sam felt his guts twist at her words. He hated the future Mr. Delaney Michaels, and he hadn’t even met him yet. The SOB was scoring the sexiest, funniest, coolest woman around, and he probably wouldn’t even understand what a prize he’d landed.

“What else have you got in those bags?” Sam asked, not liking the dark alleyway his thoughts were veering down. It was such a joke, anyway, him daring to critique another man’s relationship—even if the other guy was purely theoretical at this point. The longest he’d ever dated one woman had been four whole months, a bold experiment he’d tried in his early twenties. Sasha had hated Delaney with a passion, and he’d swiftly gotten sick of fighting with her over her pathological jealousy of his best friend. He didn’t do fights, and in his experience, most relationships eventually deteriorated into animosity as people’s needs clashed. Either someone caved and became a doormat, or the relationship became a battleground. And Sam refused to live in either state.

That was why he’d hated these past few weeks with Delaney so much. The two of them never fought. Not seriously, anyway. Sometimes Delaney might take a shot at him over something, and he might fire back. But he’d never gone to sleep angry with her. Another reason why he’d found rest so elusive lately.

“There’s cheese, some cold meats, and a couple of bottles of red wine. I also got champagne, but that needs chilling so we can save that for tomorrow,” Delaney was saying as she rummaged through the bags. “Oh—and I got dessert. But that’s a secret.”

“Let me guess—chocolate something,” Sam said, knowing her sweet tooth.

“You don’t know everything about me, Sam Kirk,” Delaney said a little huffily.

Sam just grinned. He might not know everything, but he knew her better than anyone else—and his knowledge was getting more thorough and more detailed every second.

They ate dinner sitting cross-legged in bed, the food spread out on a large chopping board Delaney had found in the kitchen. Sam loved the way Delaney enjoyed her food—her repertoire of delighted noises had always amused him, but now he took extra pleasure in watching her close her eyes over a particularly good stuffed olive, or moan with appreciation over the creaminess of the camembert. He was a little surprised to think that he hadn’t noticed what a sensual person she was before. He frowned as he realized that all the clues had been there if he’d been willing to look—like her love of textured fabrics, as evidenced by the very tactile suede-like couch in her apartment. He could still remember her rubbing her hands along the seat cushions when it had arrived and purring like a cat.

The thought of it was enough to give him a hard-on.

And the great thing was, he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t have one anymore. He could sit across from her and devour her with his eyes and imagine what he was going to touch or taste next, building his anticipation and hers every time their glances brushed, each exchange becoming more and more loaded until finally he collected the remnants of their meal and strode across to dump them unceremoniously in the sink. After that, it was perfectly legitimate for him to saunter back to the bed, enjoying the way her eyes dropped to his erection. Some might say it was even incumbent on him to leap onto the bed, ruthlessly stripping her until every inch of her delectable, unforgettable body was completely naked.

“You drive me crazy,” he said as he licked his way down her belly.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she said, lithely twisting out from underneath him and using an old wrestling trick he’d taught her to force him onto his back.

“Nice,” Sam said, appreciating both her skill and the fact that with her on top he had a spectacular view of her small but perfect breasts.

Delaney just raised an eyebrow at him, then lowered her head to his chest. First, she circled one of his nipples with her tongue while her hand stroked the other, pinching and teasing and sucking until they were both tight and hard—not unlike other parts of his body. Then she began to kiss and lick her way down his belly. He knew what was coming next—he hoped he knew what was coming next, anyway—and just the thought of Delaney licking and sucking and stroking him so intimately was almost enough to send him off on its own. At last she reached his crotch, her hands wrapping firmly around his shaft. She shot him a vastly knowing look from under her eyelashes, and then he was in her mouth, her tongue firm and hot and wet against his erection.

“Ohhhhhh, Laney,” he sighed, giving himself up to the experience.

She was amazing. He’d never had a woman lavish so much attention on him before. A lot of women, in his experience, went down as though it were a duty, offering a few token bobs of the head to get things rolling. But Delaney seemed to really be getting off on his pleasure. By the time he was grabbing at the headboard to hang on for dear life, she was panting almost as much as him. After he’d come, a release that left him sagging with fatigue, she turned molten-toffee eyes to him and wiped the corners of her mouth delicately like a very pleased cat.