Anything For You (18 page)

“In case you were wondering, that was dessert,” she said.

It was the last thing he’d expected her to say, and he threw back his head and let out a crack of laughter. Her face crumpled with mirth, too, and for a moment they clutched at their stomachs and hooted and giggled together.

Sam realized that he felt great. Infinitely turned on, even if he wasn’t about to do anything about it at the moment, completely comfortable and excited about what else lay in store on this weekend of discovery.

By the time they were ready to pack up and head home on Sunday, he had no doubt that he and Delaney would have resolved all the wrongness that had been between them lately. The fact that he’d have had the best sex of his life while doing it was just a big, fat bonus.

DELANEY WOKE FIRST the following morning. She lay very still as she registered the fact that she was pressed against Sam’s back, her hand snaked over his waist and across his chest. The smell of him filled her senses, and she pressed her cheek against his warm back. She loved him so much. Last night had been so freeing, being able to touch him with passion and desire without having to hide her true feelings. Although there had been moments when she’d thought she’d given too much away.

It was only after she’d gone down on Sam that she’d understood how lost in the experience she’d been. For starters, she’d intended to work him to a fever pitch, then hold off at the last minute and tease him in the same way that he had teased her. But she’d imagined pleasuring him with her mouth for so long. She’d fantasized about how he’d taste, how he’d feel, how long and firm he’d be in her hands. It had been absolute wish fulfillment to be able to have her way with him at last, and she’d gotten too caught up to remember her revenge. Next time she would have to be more careful.

She smiled as she registered her own thoughts. Next time. For a short while, she lived in a world where there were next times. And she was going to make the most of each and every one of them.

Sam stirred, rolling around to face her. His eyes were the soft, dreamy blue of a clear summer’s day.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning,” she said back.

For a moment they lay there, staring into each other’s eyes. Delaney felt a wellspring of emotion rising up inside her. This man meant so much to her.

As though he sensed the tumult within her, Sam pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He held her that way for a long moment, then leaned back so he could look into her face properly.

“So what are you cooking me for breakfast?” he asked cheekily.

Delaney smiled. Just like Sam to go for the light option. “Wrong question. What are you buying me for breakfast?”

They showered together, an overlong session that involved lots of pressing each other up against the tiled wall and much dexterous work with slippery, soapy hands. Finally they were dressed and on the road back to Daylesford. They quickly discovered they were spoiled for choice for breakfast, and they opted for a café with lots of outdoor tables so they could watch the passing parade. They divided up a newspaper someone else had left behind, she taking business and arts, him the sports pages. They both ordered scrambled eggs on whole grain toast with freshly squeezed orange juice, then sat back to enjoy the morning sun.

Feeling too contented to concentrate on the newspaper, Delaney tilted her head back and enjoyed the play of sunshine on her closed eyelids. The sound of the people around them became amplified, and she smiled to herself as she relished the fact that she was here with Sam, that she’d woken in his arms, and that even though several women in the café had turned to stare at him when they entered, she was the woman he would be taking home to bed tonight. Or this afternoon, if she played her cards right.

She felt a gentle touch on her cheek and she opened her eyes to find Sam leaning close to her, his expression intent.

“You look very beautiful in the sunlight, Laney,” he said softly. “Have I told you how much I like your new hair?”

“No.”

“I do. I like it a lot.” Sam had a mischievous glint in his eye as he shot her a conspiratorial look. “I like it this much,” he said, lifting the newspaper from his lap to reveal a significant bulge in his jeans.

Delaney’s mouth went dry as she stared at his crotch, wishing she’d opted to cook him breakfast in their cabin after all.

“Don’t worry, it’ll keep,” Sam said confidently, reading her chagrin.

Further conversation was stymied by the arrival of their food. Once her meal was in front of her, Delaney was surprised to realize she was starving. She tucked in with gusto, and Sam gave an approving nod.

“Good. Keep up your strength. You’re going to need it,” he said.

“So are you, so eat up yourself,” she warned him.

They grinned at each other. Delaney felt a rush of pleasure at the fact that the friendly teasing and rivalry that had characterized their friendship seemed to have transferred so readily to this new—if temporary—dynamic.

It’s only because this is exactly how Sam likes it, an evil little voice whispered in her mind. No strings, no tomorrows. Just fun and games with no consequences.

Delaney banished the thought as soon as it had entered her mind. She was the one who had issued the invitation for this weekend. They were her rules. She had no right to start sulking over Sam’s attitude when she was getting exactly what she’d asked for.

After breakfast, they wandered down the main street and discovered that the local church was having a trash and treasure sale. Delaney cast Sam a hopeful look—although she hated shopping in general, trash and treasure sales were a sentimental favorite of hers. Something to do with the fact that she and Sam had manned the lamington stand at their school fete when they were thirteen and had the time of their lives eating the leftovers. Her mouth watered as she thought about getting her hands on a home-baked lamington. There was something so simple and perfect about the fresh sponge squares rolled in chocolate frosting, then dipped in coconut. If they were really lucky, someone would have made them with jam in the middle.

“There’s probably a cake stall,” she wheedled when Sam rolled his eyes. “There might be lamingtons.”

Making a big show of being magnanimous, Sam gestured for her to go ahead. Walking amongst the rows of trestle tables, she tried not to look too surprised when he casually slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to walk alongside him. Sex was one thing, but this was a whole other ball game. Her heart seemed to expand inside her rib cage as they browsed slowly amongst the flotsam and jetsam from other people’s lives, Sam’s arm a warm, reassuring-yet-exciting weight across her shoulders.

At last they came to the food section, staffed as always by an array of elderly ladies. Delaney hid a smile as they all sat a little straighter, primping their hair and tweaking their dresses as she and Sam approached. Within minutes Sam was the center of a circle of elderly female admirers, and she was shaking her head at his apparently universal charm.

“Here, try my preserves,” said a stick-thin old woman with the name Mabel embroidered on a homemade badge on her bony chest.

“He looks more like a marmalade man to me,” a tiny, plump woman interjected. “Something with a bit of bite in it.” The look she gave Sam was positively carnal.

Delaney wasn’t sure at exactly what point Sam began to fear for his personal safety, if not his virtue. It didn’t take the old dears long to segue from offering him samples of their culinary wares to asking how he stayed so fit and strong, and then reaching out to pat a muscle here and there.

Sam shot her a worried look as Mabel edged around behind him to check out his rear.

“As I suspected—not a saggy bit of denim in sight,” she said approvingly. “Back in my salad days I had a boyfriend who was a surfer. Reginald. Excellent buttocks. Just like yours,” she said.

Sam got a peculiar expression on his face, and insisted on buying one of each lady’s offerings before ushering Delaney away.

“I still can’t believe there were no lamingtons,” she said whimsically as they arranged their jams, pickles, slices and fudges in the back of Sam’s car.

“Just as bloody well. God only knows what the lamington lady would have done to me,” Sam said.

“Sam!” Delaney said, choking on a laugh.

“I’m serious. That skinny little one—Mabel—she pinched me on the butt when she thought I wasn’t looking,” Sam said, his face a picture of outrage.

“Serves you right for being such a flirt.”

Sam shot her a speculative look. “Don’t tell me you were jealous, Laney,” he teased.

Delaney puffed her cheeks out. “Jealous! Hardly,” she said. She would never, ever admit to him that she’d had to staunchly resist the impulse to claim him by giving him a big pash in front of his elderly harem. Not her finest moment.

Sam wasn’t buying, however, and he pushed her up against the side of the car and kissed her until she was mindless.

“Don’t worry, Laney. They weren’t even in with a chance,” he said when he finally broke away.

She stared at him, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak.

“Time to go back to the cabin,” he said decisively.

Since it was exactly what she wanted to do, she nodded compliantly.

The journey back seemed to take far longer than it had going the other way, and she crossed and recrossed her legs, already so hot for him she could feel her pulse throbbing dully between her thighs. Sam kept shooting her hungry glances, and by the time they were pulling up next to the cabin Delaney was feeling well and truly breathless with need.

Sam strode into the cabin like a man on a mission and immediately began shucking his clothes.

She followed suit, kicking off her shoes, stripping off her jeans and panties in one smooth move, then leaning down to peel off her socks. When she straightened, Sam was lying on his back on the bed, stark naked and magnificently erect, his eyes glued to her body. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, his gaze avid and intent and completely focused, or maybe it was something to do with the weekend being a time-out from their usual lives, or her newfound confidence since her minimakeover, but a heady rush of power swept over her. Slowing everything down, she reached languidly for the top button on her shirt, sliding it loose oh-so-casually before letting her hand fall to the next button, and then the next.

“Laney,” Sam growled warningly. “Don’t make me come and get you.”

She just smiled, grasping the edges of her shirt and flipping first one side and then the other open, offering him fleeting glimpses of her breasts in her sexy, red push-up bra.

“I’m going to count to ten, then you’re in big trouble.”

Delaney just waggled her eyebrows at him and slowly pulled the shirt off one arm.

“One. Two. Three,” Sam counted, eyes narrowed.

Delaney pulled her other arm free of the shirt, throwing it toward the bed so that it landed in the middle of Sam’s chest.

“Four. Five. Six,” Sam said, brushing her shirt aside impatiently.

Stealing a move from a Madonna video clip, Delaney shimmied her hips and bent forward at the waist, reaching behind herself to unclip her bra. As the fabric fell slack around her ribs, she caught the cups of her bra in her hands and slowly peeled them away from her breasts while still bending forward. She knew it was a position that gave her the most possible cleavage, and she jiggled her shoulders a little as she dropped the bra completely.

“Seven,” Sam said very slowly, his eyes glued to her breasts as she slid a hand down to touch her own nipples.

As they pebbled and thrust forward, Sam made an impatient noise and tensed as though he were about to jump off the bed and come get her. Determined to keep the initiative, Delaney beat him to it, striding toward the bed and stepping up onto the mattress in a long bound. Sam half smiled and reclined again, a look on his face that said he was more than prepared to sit back and enjoy the show now that she’d added a bit of audience participation into the mix.

Loving teasing him, Delaney boldly stepped over him so that she stood straddling his torso, looking down at his hard male body. Holding his eye, she slid a finger into her mouth, then slowly trailed it down her cleavage, over the erect, highly sensitive nipple of her left breast and down onto her belly. Sam’s mouth opened a little as she headed south, sliding her hand between her thighs to touch herself. Positioned where he was, he had a box seat—so to speak—and she loved the way his breath hitched as he watched her pleasure herself.

When she figured he’d had enough, she bent her knees, preparing to lower herself over him and straddle him more traditionally, taking them both for the wildest of rides. But Sam had other ideas. As she started to kneel, he hooked a hand behind each knee and hauled her forward. Before she knew what was happening, she was off balance and falling forward, her bent knees landing just above his shoulders. His eyes locked to hers, Sam slid his hands up onto her rear, silently urging her farther forward still, and Delaney realized with a shock what he intended.

She was by no means a novice where oral sex was concerned, but to press herself against his mouth like that from above seemed so…decadent that she hesitated. Sam took the decision out of her hands by scooting down on the bed, and the next thing she knew, his mouth was closing over her and his tongue was dancing over her clitoris, at first fast and firm, then slow and gentle, then fast and firm again. Delaney’s whole body shuddered and her thighs tensed as the most incredible sensations shot through her. Sam’s mouth felt so hot, so wet, so right against her, she could do nothing but lean forward, grab the headboard and let it happen.