New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (7 page)

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Becca literally had to drag herself out of bed. What she really wanted was to bury herself beneath her blankets.

But in the warm bed her problems were only magnified. Some good this makeover had done, she thought crossly as she showered, ignoring the blinking answering machine. She knew who the messages were from, but she wasn't ready to hear what the tall, warm-eyed, far-too-sexy Kent had to say.

Fine. He was probably sorry.

So was she, because now she needed a
new
adventure when what she really wanted was him. Grabbing a bagel, she surveyed her closet. It was…empty?

Great. She'd forgotten to pick up her dry cleaning. Again. Glancing down at the sunshine yellow demi-bra and matching bikini panties she wore, she had to laugh. All the hot lingerie in the world wasn't going to dress her suitably for work.

Tossing on old jeans and a T-shirt, grumbling about the waste of money for the silk and lace, when clearly she was going to go to her grave without ever experiencing an orgasm, she got into her car.

Ten minutes later, she came to a stop in the parking lot of the small dry cleaners and could only stare in shock.

A large hand-lettered sign in the window said “Electrical Problems. Closed Till Noon.”

“Everything I own is in there,” she muttered. Everything except her underwear, she reminded herself. There was always a silver lining. She still had the best lingerie in town.

With a sigh, she got out her cell phone and called Summer, begging her to meet her at the salon where she could pick out an outfit for the day.

Then she got back into her car and headed for Summer's Place, which was locked. She sat on the steps to wait, but twenty minutes later, she looked at her watch and frowned.

Where was her sister? Without her, Becca was stuck going to work looking like…

“Well,
there's
the Becca I know.”

At Kent's husky and oh-so-familiar voice, Becca pulled her baseball cap closer around her ears and stared resolutely at the water.

“I was hoping you hadn't tossed those jeans and that hat.”

She heard the smile in his voice and knew if she looked at him, his killer grin would melt her.

So she kept her eyes on the lake.

“Ah, you're still upset with me.” Uninvited, he sat next to her. “That's okay, I'd be upset with me, too. Anyway, I figure you'll have to talk to me eventually.” His body brushed against hers. “Even if only to tell me what you think of me.”

“Oh, I have no problem telling you what I think of you,” she said. “You have a big mouth. You're a chicken. And—”

He laughed a little, and her tummy tightened at the sound. “Yeah, I get the picture.”

Sighing, she turned and found him looking at her with such affection, her heart squeezed. He'd folded his long, rangy body beside her. It was silly, embarrassing, but she melted a little at just the sight of him and that stirred her temper because he didn't feel the same way. “Why are you here, Kent?”

“I'm actually not certain,” he admitted.

Flattering. “Well go be not certain somewhere else, would you?” She tried to move away, but he stopped her, put his big hands on her arms and
looked deep into her eyes. “You're making this difficult.”

“
I'm
making this difficult?”

“I care about you,” he said carefully, making her go absolutely still. “Very much.”

Her heart simply stopped.

“And I want you in my life, but—”

With an abrupt thump, her heart started again. “No.” She stood up, backed away. Dammit, not again. Her ticker couldn't take this roller-coaster ride. “No buts.”

With a grip of gentle steel Kent held her still, made her look at him.
“But,”
he said firmly. “The reason Summer isn't here is because she called me and I told her not to come.”

She broke free and stared at him. “You
what?
”

“I thought—”

When he found himself talking to her back, he groaned. Becca didn't care, she kept going, heading directly for her car, but despite his limp, he passed her and blocked the door. She tried to evade him, but it was like trying to go around a pit bull. A six-foot tall, one-hundred-seventy-five pound pit bull with determination and grim regret blazing from his gaze.

“Don't you want to know why?” he demanded.

Because it was useless trying to get past him,
she blew a stray hair out of her face and glared at him. “Okay, I'll play. Why did you come instead of Summer?”

“Leaning on Summer to create an image of yourself isn't necessary.” Ruthlessly, he held her gaze even when she felt the blush of embarrassment creep up her face. “You don't need to look perfect to change your life-style.”

“Then why don't you want me?” she blurted out, then covered her face. “Forget I said that. I have no idea why I—”

“I want you,” he assured her. “But there's more than just wanting involved here.”

Thinking was difficult since he'd somehow managed to plaster his body to hers again, all his tough, ready muscles to her softer, more giving body. He felt big. Hard. Sexy. But it was his scent that did it; his familiar, male scent that had her yearning and aching, and far too close to tears. To lose it now, in front of him, would just top off the day. Again, she tried to turn away, but with a heart-breaking wordless murmur, Kent pulled her even closer, slid those incredible hands of his over her back, then cupped her head, so that her face was pressed to his throat.

“Let me go,” she whispered shakily. “You don't want to be here.”

“I can understand why you'd think that, seeing as I've been an ass, but I really do want to hold you.”

Pride demanded she resist, but he paid no attention to that, just continued to hold her tight, one hand softly, gently, rubbing her spine, his other stroking her hair as he gave her a hug that wrenched at her emotions as nothing else could have.

For that moment, she felt so protected. So cherished. But the compassion, the utter empathy pouring from his gaze, humiliated her.

“You're important to me,” he said when she struggled free. “I don't want to lose you, Bec.”

“But you don't want to keep me, either.”

“Define
keep.
”

“A commitment.”

He tilted his head. “The let's-go-out-to-dinner-every-Friday-night kind of commitment, or the let-me-park-a-toothbrush-in-your-bathroom kind of commitment?”

Hating the sudden neediness that swamped her, she closed her eyes. “Forget it. Okay? Just forget it. It's not your fault, I changed the rules on you in the middle of the game, wanting more than you can give. Not very fair of me, I know, but I can't
seem to help myself. But I really need you to just drop it. Right here, right now.”

She turned away then, she had no choice, not when her own emotions were so dangerously close to the surface. Not when, with the slightest encouragement from him, she would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

 

T
HE KNOCK
came at dinnertime. Becca glared at her front door, certain it was Summer coming to make amends for being a no-show that morning.

But Becca wasn't ready to make amends, even if she did know most of her anger was self-directed. She'd had plenty of time to dwell on that since she hadn't gone to work. “A mental health day,” she'd told Cookie when she'd called in.

She'd convinced herself she deserved it because she'd never taken a personal or sick day before.

At first, she'd attempted to distract herself with reading. Then with school work. But nothing could make her forget how she'd left things with Kent. She didn't want to think about the hurt in his dark, lovely eyes, or what would happen now.

To take her mind off her troubles, she'd gone shopping, thinking it was time for yet another adventure.

She'd purchased a mountain bike, and it sat in her living room, shiny and inviting.

Another knock came, far less tentative than the first one.

With all her frustration, Becca yanked open the door, but everything she'd planned to say to her sister died on her tongue.

Kent stood there, one arm braced on the jamb, the other low on his hip. He wore all black: black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, black boots. His dark hair was ruffled, as if it had been shoved back from his face by agitated fingers. In the dim light of the early evening, even his blue eyes looked black.

He was bad attitude personified.

Automatically, her heart responded, begged her to reach out to him, but her brain intercepted with good sense just in the nick of time.

Silent, he straightened and held out the hand that had been braced against her door. Wildflowers.

He'd brought her wildflowers.

Disarmed by the gesture, Becca took them, automatically lifting them to her nose to inhale their beautiful, exotic scent.

He hadn't smiled, not once, but his gaze was soaking in the sight of her in a way that made her
anger turn. Instead she became hot and trembly. Confused.

“Missed you at work,” he said.

“I'm sorry.”

He waited, but when she just looked at him, he said, “Are you going to invite me in?”

His expression was nothing short of fierce. His body was so tense she could see each and every muscle delineated beneath his shirt and jeans. Not for the first time she wondered, a bit wildly, how a desk-bound chemist managed to look so mouth-wateringly magnificent.

“Yes or no, Becca.”

Never had she sensed such a temper in him, and even though he held it perfectly in check, it gave her pause. He hadn't made one move toward her, but she backed up a step just the same. “I don't think coming in would be a good idea—” She began, but squeaked in surprise and nearly swallowed her words when he simply picked her up and set her aside, giving him room to walk past her.

“Well, gee,” she said dryly, slamming the door. “Come on in—” The sarcastic words backed up in her throat when he put his big, warm hands on her arms and set her against the closed front door.

“You know you're driving me crazy, right?” he asked roughly.

“Kent—”

That was the last word she managed to get out before his mouth came down on hers.

T
HE KISS WAS
as combustive as ever. More so.

Kent's mouth moved over Becca's, relentless, urgent. Anxious. He didn't realize how tense he was, how desperately he needed a sign from her, until he felt her fingers dig into his shoulders, binding him to her. Murmuring his encouragement, he pushed closer still.

In answer, she trembled, a shiver he hoped was anticipation because this,
this
was what he'd needed all day. Hell, it was what he'd needed for the past few weeks.
Her
in his arms, arching her body to his, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, whimpering her need and desire in arousing little whispers that threatened to undo him right then and there. Needing more, he dragged his mouth over her jaw to gently nip at her ear.

She moaned his name.

“Mmm, love that sound.” He nipped at her again just to hear it. “Love my name on your lips, in that voice that says I'm driving you half-wild.”

“More than half,” she assured him shakily. “Why are you here?”

“I missed you.”

“Really?”

“Very much.” Her body was warm and round beneath his hands. “You're so lovely, Becca.”

“It's the makeover.”

He opened his mouth to deny that, but she cupped his face, brought his lips back to hers. Incredible need twisted, knotting him up. When she writhed against him, the knots tightened. “Becca…about earlier. About us—”

“No,” she said quickly, breathlessly. “It's okay.”

He slid a finger over her cheek. “But I wanted to explain—”

“Kiss me.” Her fingers against his mouth stopped anything else he might have said.

Kissing each finger, he brought his hand up to hold hers. “So you're not upset anymore.”

“You talk too much, Kent.”

He had to smile at her irritation. “But I hurt you. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

“I know.” She returned the smile, and the mesmerizing heat remained in her eyes, invitingly.

Go for it,
a little voice said.
She's hot, you're hot, go for it.

But they had to talk first, before she got the wrong idea. He wouldn't hurt her again. “Becca—”

“Later.” She tugged his head down to hers. Her voice was a breathy whisper. “Whatever it is. Much later.” And she took over.

Oh man, Kent thought weakly, how she took over.

Sinking her fingers into his hair, she angled his head for her kiss, arching her body into his so that he could feel every inch of her.

A stab of pure heat tightened his belly, and logic warred with heat—he had to get enough air to his brain, to make sure she understood he wasn't just using her, that he truly felt something for her, something deep and scary and almost flu-like—but then she nibbled at him. First one corner of his mouth, then the other, and lust began to win.

With everything he had, Kent willed his hands to remain at her waist, but they weren't listening. Every part of his body responded to the heavy-lidded sensual gaze in her eyes, some parts more than others.

He had her sandwiched between his hard body
and the even harder wood. But this was Becca! She deserved better, deserved more than what he could give her shoved up against the door. “Becca—”

She went up on tiptoe to breathe in his ear, and the sensation that caused made him smack his head hard on the wood. “Ouch!” Pain and desire exploded in his head and all thoughts vanished.

“Stay with me.” She pulled him back to her. “I want to be out of control. I want to be wild.
Hot.
” She clutched him, rubbing her body to his in an eager hug that nearly undid him. “Please, Kent. I want to let loose, I want my feet to leave the earth. I want to see stars. I want to explode, for once in my life! Is that so much to ask?” She blinked at him, frustration swimming in her gaze.

“No,” he said softly. “It's not too much to ask.”

“Then help me.”

Oh yeah, he could help her. As if he could refuse her anything, especially this. “Come here then,” he said hoarsely, dragging her close for a slow, wet, deep kiss that left them both breathless, and painfully ready. She gripped him trustingly and a heavy ache settled in his heart. When he scooped her up in his arms, she laid her head against his chest and the ache deepened.

She gave him a sexy, wicked smile and delicately bit his lower lip. Tempted to devour her right there, he kissed her again.
Don't take her against the door,
he reminded himself.
Think.
As if he could. “Your bed,” he rasped out.

“Yes.” She ran her fingers over his chest, and he stumbled in his haste, nearly killing both of them.

Her breathless laughter goaded him, and he licked his suddenly dry lips. Staring at the motion, she slid her fingers into his hair, looked him in the eye and asked with a heart-stopping mix of anticipation and awe, “Are you going to…” She blushed furiously.

“What?”

“Are you going to…use your tongue? You know, on my body?” Her teeth dragged over her lower lip. “I've always wanted to know what that felt like,” she admitted.

They were only in the hallway, but he stopped to press her against the wall, his body poised and dying for her. Need pulsed inside him, biting, sharp need. With his arms planted on either side of her head, he cupped her face and tilted it up. Her lips were still wet from his mouth and he traced her lips lightly with his thumb. “I'm most
definitely going to use my tongue,” he said. “On every single inch of you.”

“Oh my.” She sounded a bit pressed for air. “Kent?”

He was walking again, and staring down at the drumming pulse at the base of her throat, at her hardened nipples. “Yeah?” he croaked.

“I want to taste you, too.”

He swallowed his groan and struggled not to crash into a wall. By the time he dropped her to the mattress, they were grappling to touch everywhere at once, completely beyond finesse.

She wore some sort of flimsy robe that simply begged to be opened past her long, trim legs. As promised, he kissed every inch of her calves, knees and thighs. By the time he dipped and kissed her inner thigh, she was halfway to that explosion she'd wanted.

He slid his hands beneath her, to her curved bottom, and he pulled her closer, opening her legs to make room for his shoulders. The robe had parted now, and her sunshine yellow silk panties were hardly more than a wisp of material. They were wet, clinging to her flesh, and he stared down at her, so unbearably aroused he could hardly think.

Becca couldn't think, either, she was far be
yond that. All she knew was a deep, piercing, relentless ache, centered in the core of her. She managed to gasp his name, though she didn't know if she was pleading or demanding.
Both,
she decided, and he reared up above her, looking down at her with so much heat and need she nearly cried.

“Becca.” That was it, just her name. Then he pulled off his shirt and her mouth went dry.
Wow,
was all she could think. And then he unzipped his pants, revealing white cotton and the bulge of the most impressive erection she'd ever seen. Her mind blanked, her body sizzled.

His hands came up to the arms of her robe and he slowly pushed the material aside, looked down at her matching silk bra, at the curves spilling out of it and let out a low sigh. “Becca, you're so beautiful.”

She reached for him, eyes closed.

He touched her face and whispered, “Becca, did you hear me?”

“I… No,” she admitted, unable to hear anything past the roar of blood in her ears.

His hands settled on her quivering stomach and slowly, so slowly, his fingers slid up until they covered her breasts. “I said you're beautiful,” he
repeated. “
You,
Becca. Not some glossy image you made up, but the real Becca.”

She couldn't stop her surprised, indrawn breath nor the delighted shock that reverberated through her system when his thumbs rasped over her nipples.

“Did you hear me this time?” His hot, intense gaze held hers. “You're the most incredible woman I know. Inside and out.” His fingers continued to stroke her. “Tell me you believe that, Becca.”

“I…
Kent,
” she breathed, arching into his touch. “More.”

In the next shattering moment, her bra came unfastened and he ran his warm hands over her taut curves, over the hard, aching points of her breasts, which were thrust out, dying for attention. The sensations were so incredible, so intense, she cried out.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She could do nothing but toss her head back and let out a shockingly dark, needy sound.

“Open your eyes, Becca.”

At his erotically rough voice, she obeyed, and with his gaze he let her see everything he was feeling. He tugged her robe and bra down to her elbows so that her arms lay trapped at her side.
“Do you know you're my every fantasy lying there like that?” he whispered, bending over her, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his eyes full of heat and desire. “Your bedroom eyes, your creamy skin—” A fingertip skimmed over a nipple and she gripped fistfuls of the bedding beneath her, biting her lips to keep from shamelessly crying out. “You want me, don't you?” His fingers continued to touch her. “Not just an orgasm, not just fun and adventure, but
me?
”

“Yes!” she gasped.

“Then tell me,” he murmured, dipping his head to drag his tongue over her quivering skin. “Tell me you believe I find every part of you beautiful. Inside and out.”

She wanted him now, right now. It took little effort for her to wrap her legs around his hips, to rock the neediest part of her over the neediest part of him.

He went completely still, letting out a low groan at her touch. “Becca.” Now
he
made the rocking motion, sliding his huge erection over her wet, throbbing flesh. “Dammit, tell me now or this is no good.”

He meant it, she could see the agony in his eyes, swirling there amid the hunger and passion. His muscles were tense and trembling, he was hot
and hard and dying with need, but still, he would leave if she didn't acknowledge his words.

He thought she was beautiful.

She so wanted to believe that, but the small doubt couldn't be erased. She'd practically forced him into this.

And yet, for this moment, for right now, she wanted so badly to suspend reality and tell him what he wanted to hear. Struggling free of her shirt, she slid her arms around his neck. “I believe you,” she whispered.

Above her he was shaking with the effort to hold back, but at her words, he kissed her.

His fingers slid beneath her panties. He stroked her until she was shuddering before he tugged them down and off. Again he kissed her breasts, each of them, slowly, thoroughly, while his fingers traced their way back up her thighs and between. When he sank a finger inside her, she arched off the bed and whimpered his name before he slid his body down, dragging his mouth over her belly, to her hip. With his fingers playing over her, she could do nothing but toss her head on the pillow as he stroked, pressed and caressed, dragging out her tension until she was poised, trembling, dying… Then he shifted and his mouth was hovering over her, hovering, hovering.

“Oh, please,” she whispered. “Kent, please.”

He said her name once before running his tongue over her hot center. She exploded instantly. Shattered. Shuddered. And slowly came back to herself, and him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She'd never been so okay in her life. “I think…that's a fairly safe assessment.”

He reared up on his knees and smiled wickedly. “Let's make sure.” He slid off her robe, then watched her with a hot, fierce expression as he retrieved a foil packet from his pocket.

She gasped at the sight of him, silky smooth and throbbing, and he let out a groaning laugh, his fingers fumbling as he protected them both.

“Now,” she demanded, pulling him close.

“Yes, now.” Dragging her hips to meet his, he thrust into her, letting out a hoarse groan. He felt it, too, she realized dimly, this incredible connection. She could see it in the strain of his beautiful face as he concentrated so intently on her.

Slowly he pulled back, only to thrust again. And again. Then again. She couldn't keep still, she had to help, had to rock her hips, had to sink her fingers into his sleek back. Things went from wild to off-the-scale urgent then, and she couldn't stifle her cry as he sent her over the edge once
more. Hands in her hair, he bent, tenderness and heat in his gaze as he took her mouth.

From deep within her, the tremors began yet again, and this time when she convulsed around him, he flung back his head and followed her over the edge, her name on his lips.

 

“W
OW
.”

Against her neck she felt him smile. “We're still alive, then?” he asked hoarsely.

“I'm still breathing.” Barely.

He stretched, groaned, then lifted his head and gave her a smile so sexy, so satisfied and male, it made her toes curl. He kissed her softly, and then again, not so softly. “In that case, I'll move when I can feel my legs.”

“Please don't.”

“I'm heavy.”

He was and she loved it, so much so that when he tried to lift himself off of her, she held him tight. “No.” Her muscles clenched around him.

Arousing heat sparked in his misty eyes. “If you do that again—” He groaned when she did. “Yeah, that. I won't be going anywhere.”

“Aren't you…tired?” she asked politely, her hands sliding through his silky hair.

He shifted between her thighs, proving just
how “tired” he wasn't. “You feel so good,” he murmured.

Her heart caught, quickened, then soared as he moved inside her, in slow, long strokes. “Again?” he whispered, dipping his mouth to hers.