Hometown Girl (4 page)

He brushed her hands away, afraid if she touched him again he’d lose it.

She licked her lips. “So it was okay?”

“If it were anymore okay, I’d have embarrassed myself.” He pulled her up on top of him, kissing her, tasting himself on her tongue, his hard-on nudging her opening. “Come here.” He sat, drawing her taut nipple between his lips, sucking it hard as he held her hips, waiting for her to slide down onto him.

An inch in he knew something was different—tight didn’t begin to describe the sensation. His eyes shot open to find hers squeezed shut. “Fitz, baby. Look at me.”

Her eyes opened wide, she grabbed his shoulders with both hands, her nails digging into his skin and bit her bottom lip between her teeth before thrusting down on him. He felt the resistance and tried to still her, but he was too late to do anything but kiss the tear that escaped her tightly closed eyes. “Oh baby, why didn’t you say anything?”

She let out a shuttered breath and then another as he held her tight against him, praying he could make this clusterfuck of a first time good for her in the end at least. He raised her chin, pushed the hair from her forehead, and waited until she opened her eyes while ignoring the throbbing need to move inside her. When she finally looked at him, he smiled, hoping he hid the tension rioting through him, holding his breath, afraid to move, afraid to hurt her anymore. “Relax. It’s okay. Just give it a minute.” He rubbed her back, working out the tension, and kissed her—just a soft kiss tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. A moment later she kissed him back.

He wasn’t sure how long they kissed before the tension drained from her strained muscles and a whole new tension replaced it. “There you go. Now hold on.”

He rolled them over with as little movement as he could manage so as to not hurt her anymore. Her head rested on a pillow, her dark hair fanned out the way he’d imagined it would when he first saw her at the bar. Her face, which just moments before had been void of all color and had stolen his breath and a piece of his heart, now, once again, was pink and flushed. He retreated a few inches and her legs wrapped around his hips with a death grip.

“Simon. Don’t go.”

He kissed her lips. This might have started out as sex for him, but that changed the moment he realized she was a virgin—he’d never known how much it changed things until that moment. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. Just let me make love to you.”

He’d never been with a virgin before and kicked himself for doing it all wrong. Not that she’d told him. Okay, maybe she’d tried, but he’d had no idea what
this
meant when she said she’d never done
this
before. He thought she’d meant going down on a guy, which was a real possibility too, come to think of it.

After some quick mental math he figured she had to be at least twenty-three. He knew she would have been carded at the bar, which was a real relief.

He put his weight on one forearm as he kissed her, waiting for her to relax around him, his hand running down her side to her hip and back again to soothe her. When her hips twitched and she let out a throaty moan, he took it as a good sign and let himself move, slow and steady. He stared into her caramel colored eyes and tapped down the urge to bury himself in her heat, to plunder, to possess.

Fitz moved with him—tentatively, like a nervous first-timer at a cotillion class as if she were trying to keep from counting the steps to the waltz aloud. Then, like the dancer that he assumed she was, she let herself move to the music they created, meeting him step for step and adding a few shimmies of her own.

She arched her back, taking him deeper, demanding more, digging her heels in, and making it nearly impossible for him to hold back. And he had to. He wanted this to be as amazing for her. He wasn’t sure why she’d gifted him with her virginity, but he’d be damned if he’d make her regret it.

“Simon, please. I need—”

“I know, baby.” He increased their pace, their tempo, and then, he watched her fly, like a shooting star. With her body convulsing around him, gripping him, he lost the ability to control his movements. Drawing out her orgasm, swallowing her screams, and then finally, he let himself follow her.

CHAPTER THREE

Elyse never thought sex would be like this. Sure, she expected it to be nice, well, after the first time. But she’d never expected to be brought to climax twice, especially since no man had ever been able to bring her there before. She might have been a virgin, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t fooled around with the men she’d dated. After all her stops and starts, she’d always left feeling unfulfilled and totally uninspired—that’s why she’d never followed through. She’d thought for sure there was something wrong with her. She’d thought she was frigid.

After tonight she was convinced that if she had been frigid, Simon Sprague was her blowtorch.

“Earth to Fitz.”

God, how embarrassing. She’d been staring into Simon’s eyes and not registering a word he’d said. She couldn’t keep the smile from breaking her face in two. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were all right.”

They were still connected—connected in ways she’d never been with any other human being. She let her hands fall from where her nails had dug into his back and let out a satisfied breath. “Oh, yeah. I’m wonderful.”

A relieved smile graced his beautiful face and erased some of the worry she’d seen a second before. “You certainly are.”

Her cheeks heated. What must he think of her? “I’m sorry.”

“God, I hope you’re not sorry.” His brows drew together, his lips pulled tight, and a vein throbbed at his temple, his jaw tense.

“No, I’m not sorry—not about this.” She couldn’t resist. She had to kiss away the grimace and when she did, little fireworks went off leaving her wanting more, pulling him closer, writhing beneath him. The more she moved, the larger the fireworks.

“Baby, as much as I’d love to continue, it’s not safe.”

“Safe?”

“Condoms are only good for one round.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Just give me a second and stay put.” He kissed her and slid away gently, leaving her feeling oddly bereft and empty. “I’ll be right back.”

A moment later, he returned with a warm washcloth, and to her eternal mortification, proceeded to clean her. Down there.

She grabbed the cloth. “I can take care of that.”

He didn’t relinquish his hold. “I’m sure you can, but I want to take care of you.” He had a way of looking at her that made it impossible for her to look away. Even while he embarrassed the hell out of her and the last place she wanted to look was into his silver-gray eyes. “Baby, I didn’t know. I know you said— Damn, I didn’t know what you were talking about until it was too late. I’m sorry. If I had known—” God, he gave her a look that she remembered he wore as a kid. A look that made her wonder if someone had told him Santa was serving a life sentence for the murder of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny.

“If you had known, you wouldn’t have touched me.”

“The hell I wouldn’t. I would have taken more time . . . I would have made it more—”

“Perfect? You can’t improve on perfection, Simon. So please don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Perfection, huh?” His cocky smile replaced the trepidation and guilt she’d seen earlier.

She had to hand it to the man; he had every reason to feel cocky. She might not have had much experience, but she knew great when she felt it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just ruined her for all other men. Not that she’d share the information with him.

He slid into bed beside her, pulled her into his arms so her head rested on his incredible chest, and slid his legs through hers, pulling the sheet up over them. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.” She placed a kiss over his heart and waited. His breathing evened out and his heartbeat slowed. “Simon?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No?”

“Is that a question or a statement?” She hoped to hell it was a statement, because she couldn’t remember a time she’d been quite so wide awake.

“A statement?”

He sounded half asleep already, and she definitely wasn’t. She kissed his neck and slid her hand down his chest. He caught it just before she made contact with her target. “What’s wrong?” She sucked his earlobe into her mouth and nipped. “Run out of condoms?”

“No.”

Elyse slid her leg farther up and encountered a very erect appendage.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Fitz, we can’t.”

Brushing his hand away, she took hold, kissing her way down. “How come?” She pulled the sheet over her head as her tongue made a trail south.

Simon groaned and threw off the sheet. “Because, you’re going to be sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine. I’m not sore. In fact, I’m anything but sore. I’m horny. I have years of no sex to make up for. And now that you’ve given me a taste, I want more. I want you to teach me everything I need to know. But if you’re not up for it—”

In one swift move he flipped her over onto her back. His hands pinned her on either side of her head, and his big, hard body slid between her open legs—his face catching the moonlight coming through his bedroom window, making it look as if it had been carved in stone. “I never said I wasn’t up for it. I’m up for anything you want. I just don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”

“Simon, I’ve done a few things I’ve regretted, but being with you, making love with you, will never be one of them. I want to learn to make love in every way possible, and I want to start right now.”

“You want me to be your teacher?”

She wiggled beneath him, his erection rubbing against the apex of her thighs. “Oh, yeah. It sounds kind of kinky when you put it that way, but it definitely works for me.”

He kissed her long and hard before nipping her earlobe. “Why do I get the feeling you’re an over-achiever?”

“Probably because you know me. I’ve always been an honor student.”

* * *

“I’ve
created a monster.” Simon closed the bathroom door, leaned against it, and couldn’t erase the satisfied smile he was sure he wore. He’d run a Jacuzzi bath with the jets on high, left Fitz in all her naked glory to soak out the morning-after soreness, and barely escaped with his virtue in tact.

She’d asked him to join her, and there was nothing he’d wanted more. She tempted him like no other woman on earth—but if he’d slid into that tub, he would be incapable of resisting her. She said she felt fine, but he’d seen her flinch when she rose that morning and noticed the stiffness in her walk. Knowing he was the cause of her pain, no matter how inadvertently, bothered him—a lot.

His phone rang pulling him out of his reverie. “Melissa, what are you doing calling me so early?”

“And hello to you too. I was just wondering what you’re doing today. I thought maybe I’d come out and let you take me to Coney Island.”

Simon walked through the living room, tripped over Fitz’s purse, and the contents spilled out of the over-stuffed bag. He scooped up the equivalent of an army mess kit, ignoring the tampon that rolled under his couch. He was tempted to sneak a peak at her driver’s license. He looked over his shoulder at the door to his bedroom but couldn’t. Living with a mother and sister, he knew a woman’s purse was sacred; someplace you had to be invited to go. And Fitz may have invited him into her body, but for some unknown reason, being invited to explore a woman’s purse was way more intimate. Strange but true. Shit. He cursed his mental block. He knew her so well; he knew what she was going to say before she said it. Last night after they made love, he recognized the embarrassment that had covered her face, he watched her all night as she slept wearing a half smile he knew as well as his own. It was maddening.

“Simon, are you there?”

He shook his head. “Yes. I was just thinking. I’m sorry. I can’t today. I have plans.” It was a lie; he just wished he had plans. He’d been hoping to spend more time with Fitz and hadn’t had the opportunity to broach the subject. He’d been too busy running her bath, while trying to keep from jumping her—again. “Can I have a rain check?”

“Hot date?”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“No one you know. As a matter of fact, I have to go. She should be out any minute and I need to scare up something to eat.”

“Ooh, you had a sleepover?”

Simon rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker to brew before opening the refrigerator and finding it empty save for beer, wine, a piece of moldy cheese, and some Thai food of questionable age. “I’m a little old for a sleepover, sis. But yeah, she spent the night.”

“At your place? Wow, this must be serious. I’ve never known you to invite anyone over, no less to spend the night.”

Simon held his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he filled his trashcan with most of the contents of his refrigerator. He hoped she drank her coffee black because the milk felt more like a solid than a liquid. “She’s special.”

“So, when do I get to meet this special, yet nameless, woman?”

Not anytime soon if he had anything to say about it. He washed his hands and tossed the towel over his bare shoulder. “Give it some time, Mel. We haven’t been seeing each other long.”

“What’s your definition of not long?”

“Mel—”

“Less than a month?”

“Melissa, cut the crap.”

“Less than a week?”

“I’m not answering you.”

“Don’t tell me you just met her.”

“I’ve known her for years.”

“Then who is she?”

“Who she is is none of your business.” Not that he could even say. Fitz had to be some kind of nickname. Damn. He tossed a disintegrating tomato into the trash with more force than necessary. He’d been reduced to taking out his frustration on food products.

“Fine. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own and break the news to all the girls who have been fawning over you for years.” She let out a sigh so dramatic it would make the brightest Broadway starlet envious.

Simon slammed the door to the refrigerator, hoping the not-so-fresh scent was coming from the garbage. He put a box of baking soda on his mental shopping list and wondered why he didn’t let Melissa’s call go to voice mail. He loved his sister, but she could give lessons when it came to familial torture. “I have to go, Mel. I’ll call you soon. Give my regards to the ’rents.”

“Oh, no. You need to do that yourself. I’m staying away from the front lines of the Sprague Family War Games. Hey, maybe you could mention you have a girlfriend. That should calm them down a little. They want grandchildren almost as badly as they want to see you wearing a three-piece-suit for the rest of your life.”

“Not a word, Mel. Promise.”

“Sure, but it’ll cost you.”

He shook his head. “It always does.” He heard the click of heels on the hardwood floor and quickly tied the garbage bag. “I’ll talk to you about this later. I have to go. Love you.” He ended the call before she could get another threat in. Damn his sister, he loved her—he really did—but wondered if she’d ever stop being the quintessential annoying little sister.

He tossed the offending garbage bag onto the fire escape and left the window open to air the place out. When he turned, he found Fitz wearing her tight jeans, high-heeled sandals, and one of his white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up and the tails tied at the waist. His mouth went dry. “Do you look like this every morning?”

She shook her head and blushed. He’d never known anyone her age who still blushed when complimented. “No, I’m usually wearing all my own clothes and makeup—I didn’t bring any with me. I changed purses . . . and I hadn’t planned. . . . So no.”

He stepped forward and pulled her right into his arms. “Fitz, baby. I took one look at you standing there and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more, sketch you or drag you back to bed. If you look like this every morning I’m either the luckiest man alive or I’m totally screwed, depending on whether or not I’m around to see you.”

Shocked didn’t begin to describe the familiar look he kissed off her face. He could swear he’d seen it before—in a bathroom. How crazy was that? He ended the kiss before he got carried away and held her close. “Damn, Fitz. What you do to me.” He wished he’d thrown on a pair of jeans instead of workout shorts, which did nothing to hide his reaction to her. She smelled of vanilla and maybe lavender. The scent was familiar. It brought back thoughts of home, which was weird because he never remembered having anyone at his family home who looked anything like the woman in his arms. Still, it stuck in his mind—he was getting closer—putting the pieces together. He nuzzled her neck to take a taste before he stepped back. “I was going to fix breakfast, but then I remembered I hadn’t gone shopping.” He shrugged. “No food.”

Her lips quirked and her adorable nose twitched while she eyed the garbage bag he’d tossed on the fire escape.

“Okay, no food that didn’t look like a science experiment. Spend the day with me. We can go out to breakfast, whatever you want, and then I can show you around Red Hook.”

Simon had probably asked girls out hundreds of times over the years, and he couldn’t remember ever waiting nervously for their answer. He watched as Fitz made her decision. He couldn’t take it. “If you have plans, break them. Spend the day with me.”

She looked up but still didn’t say anything.

The suspense was killing him. “Please.”

Fitz dragged her hands through her hair and turned away—looking at everything but him. She took a few steps back.

He went up on the balls of his feet, fully prepared to stop her should he need to. Not that he knew how he would; he just knew it was important that she stay. With him.

She turned. “Don’t you have to work?”

He closed the distance between them. “No, the Crow’s Nest is closed Sundays and Mondays, and there’s nothing in my studio that can’t wait. Not that I’d get any work done today, anyway. I’d just spend the day thinking about you. It’d be much more satisfying to be with you while I’m doing it.”

Fitz nodded, and a relaxed smile crossed her face.

He couldn’t fathom why she’d been nervous—after all, he’d practically begged her to spend the day with him. Like most men, what he didn’t know about women could fill the New York Public Library. But not knowing what Fitz was thinking and feeling bothered the hell out of him. Something else that she’d changed.