Anything For You (19 page)

Within minutes she was writhing, on the verge, and Sam seemed to know exactly what she needed to push her over the edge. While he continued to caress her with his tongue, he slid a hand up her inside thigh and slipped a finger inside her. She came instantly, clenching around him, unable to contain her very vocal cries of ecstasy. Afterward, she slid off him and collapsed on her back, one hand falling across her face in a vain attempt to feel less exposed.

Sam allowed her a moment’s respite before she felt the mattress dip as he moved to position himself beside her.

She felt the delicious pressure of his lips beneath her ear, and she slowly lowered her arm.

“You are the sexiest woman I have ever met,” Sam said, his expression very intent.

All her self-consciousness left her. This was Sam. He’d held her hair when she was sick after too many cocktails when she was seventeen. He’d seen her throw temper tantrums when her laptop failed. He’d always been around to pick her up and dust her off when she’d fallen over. He’d just performed an incredibly intimate act on her, and she’d lost her mind for a moment—and she’d been safe the whole time, because she was with him.

She nodded minutely, letting him know that she understood what he was saying. Sam nodded back, and started kissing her neck again, right where he knew it got her the most. She almost protested, sure that she couldn’t possibly even think about more sex after what had just happened.

But amazingly, her hands were already reaching for Sam, one hand grasping the thick length of him, the other dragging his hips toward her own. When Sam slid into her, she sighed and wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked her pelvis forward and closed her eyes. Heaven. She could never get sick of this. Ever.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she’d just made a very dangerous admission to herself.

But Sam was inside her, and his hands and mouth were on her breasts, and there was no way she could think right now. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the moment.

Sam derailed that particular train of thought before it could go anywhere. He’d been telling himself all weekend that everything would resolve itself once they returned to Melbourne. This incredible sensual time-out would be over. Hell, their friendship would probably be even stronger because of it.

On a good day, with the wind blowing in the right direction and all the fates aligned, he almost believed his own bull.

“This French champagne is so good. I know it’s unpatriotic to say it, but Australian champagne never tastes like this,” Delaney said.

Sam opened his eyes. It didn’t help with the relaxing thing, but it seemed nothing would while his body was tangled with hers.

They were soaking in the outdoor tub on the cabin’s front deck, and Delaney’s face was flushed pink from the heat. He could see the rosy tips of her breasts where they broke the surface of the water, but the rest of her was hidden by sudsy bubbles. Behind her, the bush was pitch-black, the darkness kept at bay by a circle of fat candles they’d placed around the decking.

She held a champagne flute in one languid hand, and her expression was dreamy as she savored a mouthful.

“Australia doesn’t make champagne. It’s sparkling wine now, remember?” he said.

Delaney wrinkled her nose. “I still think that was a bit mean of the French. Kind of stopped everyone being able to fool themselves,” she said.

“Very cruel,” Sam agreed, mock-solemnly. He sent a questing hand out to see what interesting things it might encounter. A smile curved Delaney’s lips as he found her inner thigh.

“Hello, sailor,” she said in her best Mae West impersonation.

He pinched her gently, and she sent a splash his way. Deciding she could keep, Sam reached for his own champagne glass.

She was right, it was good. In fact, this whole weekend was just about perfect. The only wrong element was that it had to end.

He frowned. Why was his mind constantly circling back to the same thought? He never dwelt on problems. He wasn’t a worrier. Life happened, he dealt with it, he moved on. Simple. But it hadn’t escaped his notice that lately he’d been spending a lot of his time thinking about Delaney, about what she meant to him, and how much he didn’t want things to change.

But they had changed. They’d slept with each other. And Delaney was leaving the business and moving house. Things would never be the same again.

Anxiety stabbed at his belly, and he took a hearty sip of champagne to try and dull it.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Delaney said dreamily. She shifted, lifting a leg from the water to prop an ankle on the edge of the tub.

Immediately his brain set to work imagining what was happening under the water, how her thighs would be parted, and the heart of her exposed.

“Yeah,” he said distractedly, leaning down to place his champagne flute on the deck, the better to free up both hands.

“Thanks for coming away, Sam” she said suddenly. “I really appreciate it.”

The distance inherent in her statement caught his attention.

“You don’t have to thank me, Laney. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

She eyed him enigmatically for a beat before nodding. “Yes, I know that.”

“And it’s not like I’m not having the time of my life here,” he said. Although, in truth, every great moment was increasingly tinged with thoughts about what would happen once they went home again.

“That’s nice.”

She looked sad all of a sudden. Sam sat up and patted the surface of the water in front of him.

“I think you need to come up this end where there’s more company,” he said.

She smiled, standing obediently. The candlelight reflected off her wet, lean body as she towered above him, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized how beautiful she was on the outside as well as the inside. His Laney.

Turning away from him, she bent down and eased herself into the water so that she was sitting between his bent knees, her back leaning into his chest. He slid his arms around her torso and spread them possessively over her belly, holding her close. Her head dropped back against his chest and he felt her let out a deep sigh.

Pressing his cheek against her head, Sam stared off into the darkness. He felt so close to her right now—closer than they’d ever been in some ways. But for the first time in their relationship, he felt scared, too. It wasn’t an emotion he associated with Delaney.

She’d always been his touchstone, his stalwart, the one immutable thing that anchored his life. Ever since he’d been a kid and he’d found comfort and warmth and normality in her family’s home, she’d been a fundamental part of his world.

And now things were changing between them. As though she could sense his thoughts, Delaney wrapped her arms on top of his and squeezed him tightly.

“You’re the best, Sam,” she said. “I’ll never forget this. No matter what.”

Sam felt a deep certainty chiming inside himself, and suddenly he knew, beyond a doubt, that everything was going to be okay. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“It’s okay, Laney. I’m not going anywhere,” he said reassuringly.

And he wasn’t. Their relationship might be changing, evolving. But Delaney was a part of his life, always would be. They would get through this.

Delaney didn’t say anything, she simply lifted one of his hands and pressed a kiss into his palm.

Sam looked up at the stars twinkling high above them. It was a beautiful night, and he was in a beautiful place, and there was no one else he’d rather be here with. Relaxing at last, he settled more deeply into the water.

“It’s all going to be fine,” he murmured reassuringly as he closed his eyes.

DELANEY FOLDED her last T-shirt and pushed it into her overnight bag. Tugging the zipper closed, she sat back on her haunches and let out a small sigh.

It was all over. In an hour’s time they would be back in Melbourne, and the weekend would be nothing but a memory.

“Kitchen’s clean,” Sam said, and Delaney quickly schooled her expression into something that might pass as normal.

Inside she was dying. She was such a self-delusional fool. She’d known this was coming, too. Telling herself that she could shag Sam out of her system—had she ever really believed that was true?

But it had been the excuse she needed to have this weekend. To pretend, for just a few crazy days that he was hers, that he returned her feelings, that they had a future.

Now it was time to pack it all away and return to reality. Time to pay the price for her flight of fantasy.

Last night in the bath, Sam had assured her that he wasn’t going anywhere. She’d been so glad she had her back to him and he couldn’t see her face. She was sure her thoughts were written all over it, as plain as day for him to see: he wasn’t going anywhere, but she was.

Soon she would no longer work with him, and once she’d sold her apartment, she would no longer live with him, either. And then it would just be a matter of slowly easing away. Within a few months’ time, Sam would be out of her life.

“I’ll start loading up the car,” Sam said, breaking into her introspection.

She watched him stoop to collect his backpack and their other belongings, and an impetuous urge shot her to her feet. Stepping close to him, she put a hand on his chest and looked up into his face.

“We’ve still got another hour before we have to hand the keys back,” she said, hating herself for being the one to cling to the magic of their time together.

Sam dropped the bags with alacrity. “You are so a woman after my own heart,” he said.

Delaney almost burst into tears at his words, but lust came to her rescue. He only had to touch her and she was lost. She’d learned that by now. A weekend of lying skin-to-skin hadn’t cured her of her addiction—if anything, it was worse, now that they had taken the greedy edge off their mutual desire. After their bath on Saturday night, Sam had made long, slow love to her, kissing and licking and teasing every inch of her body until she was writhing with need. Even when he entered her, he took his sweet time, stretching the experience out as long as he could. She came twice, the second time a climax that was so deep, so all-encompassing that she’d lost all sense of time and place.

Now, Sam kissed her deeply, holding her body tightly to his even as he backed her toward the bed. She felt the mattress behind her knees and allowed herself to fall backward, Sam coming with her.

Just the feel of him resting between her spread legs was bliss. A torturous, need-inducing kind of bliss, but bliss nonetheless. Knowing full well that she was touching his beautiful body for the last time, Delaney took her time peeling his clothes off, her hands smoothing reverently over each newly exposed expanse of skin. He was in his prime, strong and tanned and full of life. She drank him in with her hands and her eyes, her feverish mind trying to store away memories for later—the smell of his skin, the way his eyes darkened when he was turned on, the giveaway twitch of his hips when he particularly liked something she was doing to him.

His hands were just as slow and thorough on her body, and she was soon quivering with the need to have him inside her. Pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, she slid on top of him and guided him inside her. They locked eyes as she rode him, the act a mirror of that first, frantic time they’d come together. This time, however, Delaney delayed the inevitable, trying to stop time, to steal just a little more of Sam for herself. But inevitably the delicious tension built within her, and she bit her lip to hold back her moans of pleasure.

Sam’s hands slid up her torso to cup her breasts, and she couldn’t help herself.

“Sam,” she breathed, sliding along his hard length. “Sam.”

He seemed to understand what she wanted. His hands slid to her hips and he gripped them firmly as he thrust up into her, never taking his eyes off hers. His face grew taut, and she felt the muscles of his belly tense beneath her hands. He was close, she knew, and so was she.

Their cries mingled together as Sam’s hips pushed up against hers one last time, the slip and slide of their bodies too perfect to deny for long. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, Delaney flopped across his chest for a brief moment. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and hear the harsh sound of his breathing.

She experienced a fierce moment of pride. She had done this to Sam—she had pushed him to the edge and over, sent his pulse sky rocketing, made him hard with need and now compliant and lazy with satisfaction. She had this, at least, to keep her warm on the long, lonely nights to come.

Carefully, methodically, she pulled her messy feelings together inside herself and wrapped them up nice and tight. Right now was where it had to end. There could be no more reprieves.

Pulling away from Sam, she began to dress. A dull weight was sitting in the bottom of her stomach. She had a feeling it was going to be there for a very long time.

SAM KEPT GLANCING across at Delaney as he tooled along the freeway back to Melbourne. The sun was just going down on the horizon, and her profile was limned with the rosy fire of the setting sun.

She looked infinitely sad, and he wanted to pull over and demand that she talk to him. She’d been very quiet since they left the cabin, and he’d respected her silence so far because he had assumed that it sprang from the same regret he felt that their special time together was over.

Seeing her face now, however, he wasn’t quite so sure.

“You okay?” he asked, even though he felt that he’d somehow traded away the right to ask such things when he’d agreed to their weekend.

“Just thinking about the business,” she said.

Sam’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Haven’t changed your mind, then?” he asked, keeping his tone purposefully light.

“No,” she said flatly.

Silence fell between them for a few kilometers. Finally Sam spoke again.

“The bank’s cool with everything. You know that. I just have to tell them when I need the funds. And then it’s done.”

He could see her nod in his peripheral vision.

“Okay.”

“So the timing is up to you,” Sam said, stating the obvious.

He knew in his bones that she didn’t really want to go. Why else would she be so sad about the prospect? She’d built Mirk Publications up with him from nothing. There was no way she didn’t feel as passionately about it as he did. He held his breath as he waited for her answer. He’d called her bluff, and now it was time for her to talk in terms of months, and long handover periods and other time-consuming, face-saving measures that confirmed his belief that she didn’t really want to go through with this.