One Reckless Summer (20 page)

What was it like to be the kind of guy who lived on this side of the lake, the kind of guy worthy of Jenny Tolliver? Not just to sneak around with in the night, not just to have sex with, but the kind of guy she would want for keeps. What would it be like to live here with her, in this cute little house, to climb with her into that four-poster bed, to wrap around her in sleep?

The truth was, he couldn’t even imagine. It was too far beyond his reality. He had no idea
who
that guy was, what he was about, what made him tick. He didn’t know how to
be
that guy.

Not that it mattered. He
wasn’t
that guy and never would be.

But he moved quietly closer to the bed anyway, because right now, in this moment, he wanted to know how it felt to share a bed with Jenny.

Walking to the empty side, he quietly stepped out of his unlaced
workboots
, folded back the covers, and lay down beside her. He rested on his side, watching her some more. He listened to the silence, to the sound of crickets outside, loud and clear even with most of the windows closed. He thought he could like being that guy, that guy she’d end up with someday after all this was over, after her divorce was long in the past, after this summer when they both needed some comfort and gave it to each other.

Whatever you do
,
don’t fall asleep.
It would be easy in such a comfortable bed after working hard all day, but he couldn’t leave
Wayne
alone all night, and he sure as hell couldn’t be seen in the light of day heading home.

Still, he reached down to pull up the covers on his side—and she awoke with a gasp.

Shit
. “It’s only me, pussycat—didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh. God. Mick.” He hated having scared her, but he loved the sound of relief in her voice. People around here weren’t usually
relieved
to see a Brody.

“You didn’t answer the door,” he whispered. “But I just wanted to lie here with you a while.”

Next to him, she sat up tall in bed, revealing the pretty white sleeveless nightgown she wore, looking like some kind of angel hovering above him, gazing down. And then she crossed her arms over herself and drew the gown smoothly up over her head, leaving her beautifully topless before him in the moonlight.

The sight stunned him—because Jenny never made the first move. And he suddenly felt as if helping himself into her bed had been pushy. “We don’t have to,” he said quickly. “Just resting here is nice.” And he meant it. He was tired, after all.

“But…I want to,” she replied.

She wanted to. God help him. And somehow, just the way she looked at him felt…different. Like she was
more sure
. More ready. Than ever before. He might be tired, but he couldn’t even think of saying no. Instead, he simply reached for her.

Jenny’s body hummed with electricity. She felt bold. And beautiful. And a little bit naughty, just naughty
enough
for a guy like Mick Brody. A part of her couldn’t believe she’d taken off her gown that way, but this only proved it was true: She
was
wild, and she
could
have an affair. She could be a seductress, a temptress. She could initiate sex. And she wanted to make him feel good. The same thoughts from earlier flowed through her veins:
Nothing is going to stop me here, from taking what I want, from finding pleasure with this man.

Biting her lip, pleasantly aware of her nakedness, she bent over him, ran her palms over his chest, stomach, through his T-shirt—this one a dark color she couldn’t clearly make out in the shadowy light. Not that it mattered—all that mattered was that it was in the way. So she pushed it up to reveal the muscles underneath, the dark smattering of hair on his chest; she ran her fingertips through it,
then
bent to kiss him.

His mouth was warm, moist—he smelled musky again tonight, like the scent of guy and earth mixed together. She kissed him harder and savored the feel of his hands in her hair, the sensation of his tongue snaking between her lips. It stirred her desire deeper, made the crux of her thighs tingle, and a soft moan echoed from her mouth against his.

Lifting from the kisses, she helped him free of the shirt,
then
took in the scintillating sight of him in her bed. She couldn’t have dreamed this as a girl—she couldn’t have known then the raw, gut-wrenching appeal of a man’s hard body, or that having such a specimen in her very bed would make him feel like…a confection, something decadent and delicious for her to feast on.

And something inside her, something dark and a little feral, sent her bending back over him to kiss his broad chest—she needed to feel that, the hardness of his body beneath her soft lips; she needed to let it fill her, with stark awareness, and still more need. Need to give, and need to take. Still kissing, she pressed her palm to the firm bulge in his pants.

A low groan escaped him and sounded to Jenny like sweet, driving music. She kissed his chest again, let her tongue flick over one of his nipples,
loved
the sharp intake of his breath in response.

Beneath her kneading hand, he grew stiffer, larger still, and her breasts ached with longing, and still kissing him—his stomach now—she reached her other hand down to work at his belt buckle, then his zipper. She undid his jeans and parted them wide. “Help me,” she whispered, and Mick lifted himself from the bed and assisted her in pushing them down. She lowered his underwear at the same time, and felt her utter nearness to that hardest part of him. Her heartbeat pulsed through her whole body like a drum. It pulsed between her legs.

As she leaned down once more to kiss his stomach, her hand curved around his erection, and Mick’s breath came louder, and she knew they both anticipated what was coming.

Finally, she lowered her mouth over him and began to move her lips up and down the thick, rigid length. The sensation filled her, and Mick’s moans fueled her.

She’d been thinking about doing this, fantasizing about it—and she wasn’t sure why, since it wasn’t usually one of her favorite things, but she’d just wanted to give Mick pleasure,
amazing
pleasure, like he’d given her. And because her revelation with him the last time they were together had given her license to be daring now. Because they were having an affair. And that sounded lush, racy. It made her feel like a woman who lived life to the fullest. Funny how much her realization—that she could be reckless and wild in bed—had changed how she felt about herself, about the whole summer, and about her encounters with Mick.

“God, honey, that’s nice,” he groaned. Then, “Aw, God yeah,” when she took him even deeper.

Continuing to pleasure him that way, she grew aware of how in control of their sex she felt in this moment. In the woods that first time, she’d wanted
him
to take control, make the decision for her—but now
she
was making the decisions, doing what she wanted to do deep down inside, not letting anyone’s ideas about her being a good girl color her actions.

She’d taken down a picture, painted a wall, put up curtains, chosen to protect a man who she didn’t feel was doing anything wrong—and now she was choosing to pleasure that man as deeply as she could. She’d never felt more vital, alive.

She was completely, vigorously into her task, loving the way Mick ran his fingers across her scalp as she worked—when suddenly he rasped, “Stop, baby,” and gently pulled her up, off him.

She blinked her surprise at him in the moonlight. “Why?”

His voice dropped lower. “I’m about to explode here.”

She didn’t understand. “Isn’t that the idea?”

Their gazes locked in the near darkness, and his moved all through her. Her lips felt swollen, her breasts too, as she waited for his reply. Finally, he said softly, “I want more. Of you.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and despite the rawness of what she’d just been doing, she’d never felt more…beautiful.

“Always,” he added then. “No matter where I am or what I’m doing,
I’m wanting
more of you.”

She nearly clambered up his body to get to him, to kiss him some more, and they made out like starved lovers, his mouth devouring hers again and again. And only when he let his kisses drop—over her throat, onto her sensitive neck—did she realize she wasn’t yet done wanting to be in control here. She knew what she wanted in this moment, and she remained ready to take it.

Kissing his mouth once more,
then
touching his face, she met his gaze, sensually bit her lower lip, and whispered, “Take off my panties.” Her whole being seemed to pulsate as she drank in the heavy way he breathed as he pushed her underwear down, far enough for her to kick them off. After which she moved her body higher up on his, straddling his torso—and then his chest.

A hot sigh left him as his hands closed firm over her ass and she realized he understood exactly what she was doing. So she kept going, until she was sitting fully upright, her hands clamped around the wooden headboard, her parted thighs balanced over his mouth. It was, by far, the most aggressive thing she’d ever done with a man, but she didn’t feel shy—she felt adventurous, and truly worthy of being Mick Brody’s lover.

When she gingerly lowered herself, Mick’s tongue sliced through her, delivering a pleasure so intense that she gasped and had to clutch tighter to the bed to keep her balance. “Oh God,” she murmured, letting her eyes fall shut.

Mick’s mouth on her was scintillating, and each stroke of his tongue sent a fresh frisson of tingling heat through her whole body.
Oh God
,
yes—so hot
,
so good
. Without exactly planning it, she soon began to move against his ministrations, unable not to clench her teeth against the permeating pleasure. “Yes,” she heard herself whisper. “That’s so good, Mick. So good.”

As the sensations threatened to overwhelm her, she realized her position allowed her to peer out the window above the bed, across the dark lake, the moon and stars showing her a silhouette of the tree line. Looking into the vast heavens teeming with a zillion stars, she realized it was perhaps the first time she’d gazed into them without yearning for something more than she had in that moment. It was the first time looking into those stars made her thankful to be exactly
who
and where she was. Because she didn’t feel so small or meaningless right now, and she didn’t have any troubles to escape right now—right now she knew the greatest pleasure she’d ever experienced: physical, emotional, all of it. She was right where she wanted to be.

“Oh Mick,” she murmured as his mouth lifted her closer and closer to the precipice of orgasm. It would happen soon. “Oh God, yes, good.”

Her gaze dropped down into the dark trees below the stars then, and she realized that a place which had always seemed mysterious and forbidden before felt…much less so now. It was Mick’s home. And even if he’d once made her feel endangered, now the opposite was true—now being with Mick made her feel safe. And so, so alive.

“Oh God, Mick, now!” she cried as the climax broke over her, vibrating through her body in hot bursts of sensation that echoed through every limb. She’d never before in her life announced when she was coming, but she liked when Mick did that, liked knowing the precise moment she’d taken him there, so she’d returned the favor. “Oh Mick! Oh God, Mick! Oh God!”

When finally the pleasure faded to normal, her whole body went weak, limp, and she moved to collapse on the bed next to him. Meeting his eyes reminded her of what she’d just done, how bold she’d been, and she sighed a dreamy, “Thank you.”

A wicked smile formed on his handsome face. “Trust me, pussycat—it was my pleasure.”

And the next thing she knew, she was under him, his hard body covering hers as he firmly kissed her, rubbed his erection between her legs, massaged her aching breasts in strong, work-roughened hands. She tasted the remnants of his affections on his mouth, tongue, and it made her feel even headier, wilder. She kissed him back fiercely, and thrust upward against his hard-on. She’d just come, of course, but his sudden urgency, the roughness that reminded her of earlier couplings, drove her now, exciting her all over again.

A moment later, he pinned her arms to the bed on both sides of her head, his grip tight on her wrists. And his gaze on her was downright feral. “I want to give it to you so hard, pussycat.”

Unh.
The words moved through her like liquid heat. “Let me have it,” she whispered.

And then he was plunging inside her, deep, slick, making her cry out, and soon nailing her to the bed in brutal, unyielding strokes. She rose to meet them, hungry, reckless with lust, no thoughts in her head about anything except how her body felt right now, how there was no room in her brain for anything but consuming pleasure, raw and unbridled.

He kissed her lips hard,
then
dropped to kiss her breasts, harder. He suckled first one, then the other, the pull of his mouth so intense that he turned her nipples sore—in a way she relished. She lay beneath him, soaking up every slick, gliding thrust—until Mick pulled back slightly to slip one hand between their bodies, between her thighs.

She gasped at the fresh pleasure, stunned, a little confused. “But I already…“she began helplessly, trailing off.

His gaze on her shone dark, hungry. “I’m gonna make you do it again.”

She sucked in her breath. And knew she probably looked surprised by the very notion. She’d always heard about multiple orgasms, of course, but she’d never experienced them. She’d somehow imagined them being reserved for other women, the kind of woman bold enough to proposition a guy in a bar, the kind of woman who’d never had a sexual inhibition in her life, the kind of woman she…was not.