His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) (16 page)

Anabelle was in fine form today. Protective
floor covering had been put in place so the finished reclaimed wood floors
wouldn’t get scuffed. He watched her pick her way across in her high heels. It
was a sight and he stopped to enjoy the view.

Fifteen minutes ago she’d arrived and had
since avoided all eye contact. Initially, he’d thought discretion had been her
intent since other vendors had been around, but it was Friday and they were long
gone now.

Anabelle stood in front of the floor to
ceiling windows and reviewed the construction set. A temporary table had been
made out of two sawhorses and a door, not a showstopper, but it worked.

“Are you going to publish this project?”

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging. He narrowed
his eyes at the lack of emotion, as if she didn’t care either way, as if she
hadn’t labored over each detail and put up with an asinine budget, not to
mention the demanding client.

The bright afternoon sun reflected off the Gulf
of Mexico so the glare was almost blinding. In the next few hours, the view
would grow more beautiful, until it climaxed into a picture perfect sunset. The
window would frame the masterpiece, giving the homeowners a stunning view night
after night.

He felt her pulling away. Physically.
Emotionally. It was starting to piss him off.

Is this what women went through when guys
brushed them off? Sometimes his sisters would bitch about what assholes men
were and he’d nodded but he hadn’t truly understood. The last time he’d seen
her, a few days ago, they’d been fine. The texting between them had been
sporadic and he’d instigated each one, but he’d assumed she’d been busy and
hadn’t wanted to push. She’d mentioned a dress-shopping excursion with her
family for her cousin’s upcoming wedding. She’d sounded stressed and he hadn’t
wanted to push. He wondered if he should plan to attend the wedding but she’d
yet to ask and he hadn’t wanted to presume.

He growled, hating that he was turning into
a pansy ass in this relationship.

She looked up in alarm.

Good. Finally she’d noticed him and he’d
make damn sure she didn’t forget him. When he agreed to the time limit, he’d been
certain he could change her mind. Hell, he’d only agreed at that point because
he’d been desperate to have her but time was running out. She was delusional if
she thought it was over for them. She was new to this but he wasn’t and he
could goddamn guarantee their sex wasn’t your average run of the mill variety.

It was special. She was special. They were
special together. In that moment, it felt like he’d been punched in the gut. A
wheezing sound escaped as breathing became difficult and his pulse became
erratic.

Shit.

Realization hit him. He wanted Anabelle, not
only for now,
but
for forever.

Double shit.

When his buddies spoke of finding love,
he’d laughed and given them shit for talking emotions.

But karma was a bitch and this whole thing
sucked.

Is this what his buddies had gone through?
This feeling like after a lifetime on cruise control, life had hit a patch of
slick water and had careened out of control.

Poor bastards.

Before Anabelle, life had been perfect. Maybe
not completely perfect, but it had been fine. There hadn’t been any pesky
emotions to sort through.

It had been easy.

Easy was good, whereas this shit was
complicated.

He shoved the drill into his tool belt. While
he wrestled with the magnitude of feelings she remained oblivious, reviewing
the library plans with her back to him in her own world. He heard her
scratching notes and muttering to herself.

Unbelievable.

He was having a moment here.

She could at least pay attention while he
tied himself into an emotional pretzel over her.

The haphazard way she’d pinned her hair made
him think of cast iron tubs and bubbles. He had an overwhelming urge to get her
dirty so he’d have an excuse to get her in the nearest tub.

The thought made him feel a whole lot
better.

Anabelle checked the elevations once more
and made a few notes as a reminder to ask her sound system contact. Her work
was solid and she knew the space would be beautiful once completed. A modern
take on the English Manor library had been the inspiration source and all four
walls would hold custom shelving and storage below. There would be hidden
drawers, pocket and touch latch doors. Electronic equipment would be tucked
away. A window seat for two would be on one wall while the other would house a
fireplace as the focal point.

Pride filled her but the presence of a hungry
male loomed behind her. Although she’d done her best to focus since she’d arrived,
she remained fully aware of him.

She was nervous and wasn’t sure why. Considering
all the things they’d done for the sake of her sexual revolution, it didn’t
make sense. He’d been a generous tutor but their month was almost up.

She’d wanted to wallow in their remaining time
together, but her mother’s unexpected presence reminded Anabelle, Sugar Bay wasn’t
Hollywood. An older woman with a younger man still raised eyebrows and was worth
lots in terms of small town gossip. This obsession that was so unlike her,
would be dished out for months, if not years. Three years later and people
still spoke about her gay husband coming out of the closet; she could only
imagine what they would say about poor old Anabelle chasing after a younger
man.

She needed distance because she couldn’t
afford to fall for him anymore than she had already. He was smart, funny, sweet
and so good with his nieces but there were projects lined up well into the
future and she’d come to rely on his creative talents so business had to come
first.

“Looks good Derek. Did the fireplace unit
come in?”

Silence. She didn’t know why he hadn’t
answered but refused to turn around and check.

Almost as if the last weeks had merged their
senses, her body was aware of his. She wondered if there’d be a time when that
wouldn’t be the case.

He moved closer.

His heat wrapped around her, along with the
embracing scent she knew as Derek. She let her eyes drift closed. If she were
blindfolded in a room of men, she’d know which man was Derek by just his scent but
she had to stay strong against his seductive power.

“Come here.” His rough whisper held an
emotion she didn’t understand.

Maybe she did. But maybe the thought of
exploring it further was too frightening so she blocked it out.

He pulled her against him and slid a palm
down her belly then back up to cup her breast. His desire called forward a need
that came from deep within her but she couldn’t let herself be swayed.

He slid his other hand lower. The plans
Anabelle held unraveled across the table as she let go of them to clutch his
forearm to stop him. But he wouldn’t be deterred. He palmed the heat of her,
not letting her skirt stop him from what he wanted.

“Oh God.” The offending fabric was in the
way of him touching her skin. A part of her wanted it to be gone so she could
feel his hands, his hot, talented hands. Hands that made her see stars and beg
for more. But the rational part of her, the part that remembered the gossips of
Sugar Bay was thankful there was an obstruction. It would be harder for him to
seduce her.

He pressed his hard cock against her bottom
and rubbed slowly, side to side. Longing filled her and she knew she was wet,
dripping even. The scent of desire filled the air. She wanted him to strip her
and fill her, as deep and hard as only he could.

He’d created this addiction.

Damn him.

He was her drug but this thing between them
wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. And the resulting damage would be too much for her
to handle.

Control was better. Her mother was right.

She pulled back. “No, Derek. I don’t
think…”

“Then don’t think Anabelle. Feel.” His
command came close to her ear. She felt his hot breath and the rough hint of
his late afternoon scruff.

He brushed a kiss against his favorite spot
on her neck. He really was wicked. He knew one kiss there would turn her into a
witless wonder. He nipped the spot as if in punishment and dragged his roughened
jawline along the length. She bit back a whimper.

Damn
him. He was good.

He laughed. The sound low, rough, and maybe
a little bit on the evil side because he knew he had her. He knew she wanted
him badly. Couldn’t help but want him.

Derek tugged her shirt out of her skirt and
she let him. His hands, big and rough, cupped her breast and massaged them. He pulled
down the offending bra and tortured her nipples. The plans and empty coffee
cups were swept out of the way as he guided her to the table, pressed her
forward against the table. Derek bunched her skirt up and pulled down her
panties. His movements were jerky with none of his customary smoothness. There
was a desperate quality to his actions that called to something within her. She
stood and kicked her panties off, not caring where it landed.

He pushed her legs wider with his thighs
while his fingers delved into her heat from behind. She moaned, leaning against
the table, her head rolled back, because he knew where she liked to be touched
and how hard and how gentle. He pulled back and she heard him unzip his jeans, the
sound harsh in the quiet room. They groaned as his cock brushed her, skin to
skin. Their senses were heightened so the slightest touch was pure provocation.

“So wet, baby.” More cream flooded from her
at his groan of approval. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

“Yes, please.” She was ready to climb his
lap if he didn’t hurry.

He chuckled behind her. “Still so polite.
Guess I’m not doing my job.”

He aligned their bodies. She gasped at the
feel of him at her entrance, pulsating, thick and hard. She groaned. Anticipation
filled her while he rocked against her, leaning forward, his body covering hers.

He bit down at the juncture of her neck as
if readying her for his dominance. Anabelle gasped and turned her head, seeking
his mouth. Tongues dueled and teeth clashed as their kiss turned desperate,
frantic, wet. Each strove for closer contact.

At last she heard the crinkle of him
unwrapping a condom to slide on. His hands gripped her hips as he held her
steady.

“Hold on.” His command was low, she barely
heard him. He didn’t pause to see if she’d heard him, but thrust deep.

Anabelle cried out. The fullness made her
arch back to accept more. His big body shuddered behind her and she rolled
back, loving the feel of him as he covered her. His next thrust was harder than
the first and she slid up the table. For the next thrust she locked her knees
and gripped the table edge. He pulled back and she followed, already missing
the solid feel of him. She needn’t worry because in the next breath, he plunged
back into her.

“Yes.” She moaned her approval. She liked
him deep inside.

“Fuck…so good,” he bit out.

She couldn’t have agreed more. She rode his
thick length, pushed back, and encouraged his relentless rhythm with
nonsensical words that might have embarrassed her had she stopped to think
about them.

He pounded into her and she opened for him,
out of her mind with pleasure. The wet, sucking sounds, the grunts and groans
of pleasure they both uttered had her forgetting where she was. No longer
caring that anyone could walk in on them or see them from the beach below if
they happened to look up.

She needed this connection.

She needed Derek.

Her head fell back. He murmured naughty
words in her ear, telling her in graphic terms the things he wanted to do to
her, and what he wanted her to do to him.

She splintered and cried out as her orgasm
raced through her body from her clitoris and radiated out to her limbs. She
pulsed around his cock and demanded his surrender. He answered by gripping her
hips and pounding into her harder and faster until at last, he stiffened and
groaned his release, setting off her second orgasm. They shuddered
together,
their internal muscles pulsed as she milked him until
the last of their pleasure released them.

Silence greeted her slow return to earth,
her body aware once again. He loosened his grip on her hips and rubbed her as
if soothing her. She was too weak to move, her muscles refused to respond. Her
head fell forward and she watched as a bead of sweat tracked a path down his
forearm.

He nuzzled her neck and disconnected. She
shuddered at the loss.

“Did I hurt you?” He kissed her forehead. “I
got carried away. I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m fine.” She stood and straightened
her shirt. She tucked it back into her skirt and tried smoothing away the
wrinkles. Her clothes stuck to her sweaty body and she knew she looked like a
mess. She glanced around but her panties were nowhere to be found. At last, she
spotted them on the ladder and was embarrassed at how high up the rung they’d
landed. It almost looked like a flagpole with her panties as the flag of
surrender.