Touch & Go (7 page)

More than one or two?
Oh hell, yes.

“How many more?” he groaned, sliding his fingers inside her panties as she rocked her hips into his hand. Into his touch. Into him.

He wanted dozens. Hundreds. Not because he needed his ego stroked, but because if they were going to work all that
unfulfilled
fantasy out of their systems, he was hoping like hell it would take some time to do it. Sure, his personal spank bank was chock-full of depraved ideas, but in all decency he couldn't expect Ava to clear the lot of them. So he'd use hers as a benchmark and just hope she was talking about more than three.

“I don't know. I can't think like this.” Ava's breath was coming rough, her words weak as he played with her body, teasing her most sensitive spots until she gasped, her head falling back against his chest. “Sam, please. More.”

And if the desperate sound of his name on her lips wasn't the most powerful fucking thing in the world—well, then, it was the way she'd spread her legs for him while they were barely deep enough into the apartment to be shielded from outside view.

Hot.

But she'd asked for more. And if there was one thing Sam was going to make sure of, it was that Ava got what she wanted. That he gave it to her.

“More?” He eased a single finger inside her, working it in and out as he used the heel of his palm to rub her. His teeth closed over her ear and he ran his tongue along the delicate shell, nearly losing it at her sweet cry and the added slickness coating his hand. “Or more like this?”

He gave her a second finger then. Felt the fracture of her breath as she started to come apart, urging him on with her “yes, yes.”

Christ,
he'd never had a woman so ready to come for him.

He wanted to take her right then. Push her up against the bar he'd built strong enough for Tony to River Dance on, shove up her skirt, and sink full length inside her. He wanted to feel her body clutching at him as he filled her, stretched her. Gave her everything he had. But more than that, he wanted to make it last, make it good.

He wanted Ava to get a little bit of whatever fantasy was behind her bulk purchase at the adult superstore.

Right after he made her come all over his hand—which, selfish bastard that he was, happened to be his fantasy du jour.

Reaching deep, he curled his fingers and stroked over his favorite hidden spot inside.

Another broken cry, and he did it again.

Ava's hips were starting to buck, his own breath unraveling fast with his control, because,
damn,
the sounds she made!

Continuing to stroke, he flicked her suit jacket open, banded his free arm across her torso, and took her breast in hand. She fit exactly right, filling his palm when he kneaded and cupped her. Catching her nipple through the silk and lace, he rolled the stiff tip and stroked again. Harder.

That was it.

“Sam!” she cried, her inner walls clamping down on him as her legs lost their strength and he carried her through to the end.

And then she was panting in his arms, turning slowly in his hold so she was looking up at him with those huge brown eyes, soft and sweet and sated. Sexy as fuck.

How was she still single?

That gorgeous red mouth spread into a wide grin. “Okay, I'm convinced.”

Letting out a tight laugh, because, well, he was still hard as a spike, he raised a brow. “You sure? Because if you're not, I'd be happy to try again. Give it another go.”

“No, I'm sold.” She looked away, the hot blush riding up her cheeks almost enough to distract him from the flash of something he'd seen in her eyes the second before they left his. He brought her chin back up with the crook of his finger.

“You okay?” he asked, searching for whatever had been there the moment before. “If this isn't what you want, we can stop. I know it sounds nuts to say that now. But you know, anytime, you only need to say the word and we go back to just friends.”

Sam hadn't exactly been playing fair when he got this ball rolling. He knew it. But after he'd seen those boxes. After he'd seen her eyes—
shit.
Maybe he'd pushed too hard.

Only Ava didn't seem to be freaking out. She wasn't backing away. She was just smiling up at him, letting her hands drift over his chest and arms, then lower to his abdomen. “I know. I don't want to stop.”

In a way it was weird, because this was Ava and he'd been telling himself “no” for twenty years where she was concerned. But in another way, it seemed like the most right feeling in the world. Because there was no one he was closer to or more comfortable with. He didn't have to guard his thoughts when they were together; he didn't have to break the eye contact because it was starting to creep him out and make him wonder what the girl he happened to be with was trying to find.

With Ava, she already knew what was inside him. She knew his darkest secrets. She knew his shame and his pain and all the things he'd never been able to let another person see. No one but her.

She knew everything.

Walking them over to her couch, Sam dropped into the seat and pulled Ava to stand between his legs.

She was looking down at him, that spill of midnight hair streaming over her shoulders, her eyes intent on his.

Reaching for her jacket, Sam eased it from her shoulders and tossed it onto the chair across the way.

“So let's have it, Ava,” he prompted, taking in the silky spaghetti-strapped top and the way the pattern of the lace showed through at her breasts.
Fucking hot.
“What's the first fantasy?”

Ava bit her lip, more sexy red tinging her cheeks. “I'm pretty sure I'm living out my most recent one right now.”

Could he get any harder?

“Yeah?” He moved to her skirt, the one he'd had hiked above her waist while he fingered her senseless. He loved this skirt. Carefully he unhooked the catch and lowered the zipper, letting it glide down her hips to where she could step out of it.

“Yeah. Because the only thing I've been able to think about was how much I wished we could do this again.”

She pulled off the creamy cami as he swept the skirt up and tossed it in the general direction of the jacket—though whether he made the shot he had no idea, because then Ava was standing between his knees in her lacy panties and bra. White. Pretty. Sexy as sin. And the only thing he could think was she was a living fantasy. And that was
before
she straddled his lap.

He'd made her come less than five minutes ago, but already Ava was edging toward desperation. It was never like this with her. She didn't get breathless or soaked or achy. But now, as she spread her knees, sinking into the cushions of the couch so she could feel Sam's hard-on through the faded denim of his jeans, she was all three at once.

Sam caught her hips in his hands, stilling her movements and then bringing his hands up to the cut of her waist, to her ribs, and just when she was about to press her breasts into those roving hungry hands, he bypassed them completely. Reaching for her face, he cupped her jaw as he threaded his fingers into her hair.

“So how are we going to do this, Ave? Right now, all I want is to flip you over and sink into that tight little body of yours, but something tells me we ought to set up a few ground rules before we get our hot and heavy on.”

Rules. Right.

They were probably a good idea.

She'd had a few of her own that until she'd let them fall by the wayside had kept her out of trouble pretty well.

So maybe a replacement rule or two were in order.

She brushed a thumb across his bottom lip, wanting more than anything to kiss him. To have his mouth on hers.

But because of all the other things she wanted too—the things that weren't within minutes of being within her grasp—the rules had to come first.

Sam rocked his hips, pressing his length into just exactly the right spot.

Friction.

Contact.

“Rules,” she gasped, watching his gorgeous mouth curve beneath her thumb.

“What are you going to give me, Ava? How many fantasies?”

Ava's belly tensed, because she'd gladly give him all of them. But that wasn't really what Sam wanted.

Which meant she needed to proceed with caution.

“Oh, sure, put it on me to number up with the fantasies,” she teased, with another slow rotation of her hips.

“What, you don't want to tell?” Sam's voice was low, seductive.

She cocked a brow. “Do you?”

Sam's focus shifted as he seemed to consider. Then, “No. Maybe not.”

“So what do we do? Keep it to tonight?” she asked, hoping the disappointment wouldn't come through in her voice.

But Sam was already shaking his head. “Not a chance, Ava. Not when I can feel how hot and wet you are through my jeans. But how about this? We'll trade off. Take turns. I'll give you one of my fantasies, then you give me one of yours.”

“For how long?” she asked.

“Until one of us runs out.” Rubbing his mouth against her thumb, he smiled again. “And I'm kind of hoping that isn't too fast.”

Reaching behind her, Ava unclasped her bra, then pulled the lacy cups free, tossing them aside. “So what do you want, Sam. Tell me.”

Maggie was staring her down from across the white tufted settee in the bridal boutique while they waited for their final fitting. The scrutiny was like an itch making Ava want to squirm and wiggle and spring away, but if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was deceive. Everyone. Forever. And while most girls might not consider a lifetime of successful lies to the people they cared for most boast worthy, Ava was confident in her decision to keep her feelings for Sam private. After all, it wasn't just their friendship she'd been protecting, it was Sam's relationship with Ford, her parents, and later their group of friends too.

Sam needed those relationships. For a guy who seemed to know half the city and was friendly with just about everyone, he didn't actually have very many close friends. Not people he trusted and cared about on more than the most superficial level, anyway.

He'd been that way as long as she'd known him and she knew why. His jackhole of a father was bad to the point of being criminal, but he was nothing compared to Sam's mom. The number she'd done on him—

Ava couldn't even think about it without a queasy churn of her stomach. She didn't need to. All she needed to do was keep protecting the friendships that made up the foundation of Sam's life, by protecting the secret she'd carried for twenty years. And now, its kissing cousin, the dirty secret about her and Sam's recent foray into fantasy fulfillment.

So rather than jump up and demand to know what Maggie was thinking so she could set her straight, Ava flipped the magazine page and then held it up for her friend to see. “I like my bridesmaid dress way better than this one. They're similar, but that tuck thing? Nonsense.”

Maggie's eyes narrowed and Ava wondered if maybe she'd let on to more than she realized. The windows to her place had been closed last night, and she'd been sure Maggie was working late. But even if she'd come home, between the water running, the Kings of Leon blaring, and, well, the rock-solid exterior walls of both their buildings between them, she thought she'd been close enough to quiet.

“What's up with you?” Maggie demanded. “You look weird.”

Ava blinked. Looked around for the closest mirror—there were about seventy-five set up throughout the two main rooms—and then made something of a show of getting distracted by her own reflection.

“Is it my hair? Is it doing that cowlick thing again, or my face? I didn't get enough sleep last night, so I was worried I had some puffy-eyed action going on.” True story, thanks to Sam's shower fantasy, his creative use of the pulse setting on the showerhead, and her selection of the silky white robe that prior to last night had existed mostly as a decoration for the back of her bathroom door because it was so pretty and impractical…but just happened to be the closest thing on hand once the hot water ran out.

Turns out Sam liked it, and sleep had been in blissfully short supply.

Chewing her bottom lip, Maggie shook her head. “No. Your hair is fine. It's actually got a nice gloss to it.”

Well, there had been a bit of a conditioner surplus in play.

“And your face isn't puffy. It's healthy looking. Like you've had some exercise this morning. Wait. Did you go to the gym…
without me
?”

Ava's hands flew up in defense because this had become one of Maggie's cray-cray hot buttons over the past few weeks. She was worried about the dress fitting, about looking good, even though Ava was about 99 percent sure Tyler wouldn't care if Maggie showed up at the altar in a burlap sack so long as she showed up. The guy wanted his ring on her finger, and bad.

“I swear I wouldn't go without you. We've got plans for tomorrow morning, so let's put the gun down and back away from the desk, okay?”

Maggie covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

“I'm sorry,” she croaked. “I know I'm being unreasonable. I just—I just can't wait until the wedding is behind us. It was so stupid to agree to the whole big ceremony thing.”

Ava nodded. Maggie had wanted to elope, but Tyler pushed for the whole nine yards, wanting Maggie to have the wedding she'd once dreamed of and was afraid to wait for. He wanted her to see that she wouldn't lose him, even with an engagement that lasted more than seventy-two hours. But the seven months they'd agreed to had maybe turned out to be a few weeks too long.

Taking Maggie's hands in hers, Ava pulled her down to sit, then scooched closer until they were hip to hip. Ava rested her cheek against Maggie's shoulder.

“I know you just want to get through this thing fast. But you know once the big day is here, you're going to love that Tyler gave it to you.”

Maggie was nodding, her eyes getting suspiciously shiny.

“I know. It's going to be beautiful and special and amazing. But until then I'm acting like a total psycho.”

“It's going to be all those things. No buts. And if you're worried about a little emotional unsteadiness, we've all been there. We get it. We love you. And a week from now, you're going to be Mrs. Apartment Three.”

Maggie sucked an unsteady breath, her watery smile fragile. “I love you.”

Ava's heart swelled to bursting. “I love you too.”

Maggie laughed, then her eyes turned serious. “You know, if I can do this—this whole white dress fantasy—you could do it too. If you really opened yourself up to the possibilities…if you let yourself believe—”

“Margaret Lawson, we're ready for you,” the attendant said with a maternal smile from the fitting area.

Maggie pushed up to her feet, hooking the handle of the bag containing her wedding lingerie over one finger. “You ready?”

Ava nodded, the smile affixed to her face bright and cheery. Completely fake. “Not quite. Just give me a bit and I'll meet you back there.”

She needed a minute. Because with all the fantasies Sam had promised to fulfill, the white dress fantasy, the first and most enduring of them all, was the one she knew without question she couldn't have.

“Half-inch or three-quarters on the boards?” Rawley asked, his head bowed over the clipboard where Sam's newbie apprentice was scribbling a list of materials as Sam passed him on the stairs at the Evergreen job.

Dwayne answered from ahead, adding a few words of helpful advice to the mix of smack talk and flak that was the usual communication between them.

With a quiet chuckle, Sam walked through the plastic drapes into the gutted kitchen to check on Larry's progress. The guy had the base of the new island installed and was taking measurements when he noticed Sam.

“Hey, man. What's up?”

“Electrical in already?” Sam asked, kneeling down to check the work. Larry was a reliable guy and Sam counted on him for a lot. But when the job was done, it was Sam's name that was going behind it. His reputation. So his guys knew no matter how much he trusted them, he'd be in, checking the work throughout.

Larry walked him through the progress and then asked a question on an issue that had come up, taking a few notes as Sam offered a solution that would keep them on deadline.

Sam should have been grinning ear to ear.

The day was rolling smoothly, the job as complex and challenging as Sam liked. His team of guys were all pulling their weight and getting it done. But as Sam checked the time, rather than letting out his usual groan over how little they had left, today he was groaning at the hours still ahead of them.

He wanted this day done.

Or at least the work end of it. The part to come, though—where he got Ava alone? Got her to make those little mewling sounds at his ear as he found new ways to get her wet for him?

That part he couldn't wait to get to. That part he wanted to last all night.

And
fuck,
thinking about
that part
was the reason he'd been walking around half stiff all damned day.

A couple more hours was all he needed to wait. Couple more hours and Ava would be done with work too. She'd be home. And he'd be backing her through her apartment, coaxing her into revealing every last dirty imagining she'd ever conjured.

Couple more hours.

He could totally make it.

Two hours later, Sam was going out of his freaking head. With every hour that passed, his plans for once he got his hands on Ava became more elaborate. More colorful. More urgent. Until finally he completely broke down and let his guys go a full twenty-three minutes early.

It wouldn't get Ava home any faster, but after a day of work—well,
shit,
a gentleman would shower first. So that's what he was going to do.

He hauled ass home. Made a lightning-fast detour to the Walgreens on North Milwaukee for a six-pack of Gatorade, a bulk box of Trojans, and a bag of Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies because Ava liked snacks almost as much as he liked her mouth.

And she was going to need to keep her energy up.

If the night ahead went anything like the night before…once he got his hands on her, there was no telling how long it would be before he gave that hold up. Before he let her kiss him good night and close the door in his face so they could get at least a couple of hours' sleep in before needing to function the next day.

In truth, Ava shooing him toward the door at the end of the night had bothered him some. But it was one of those few lines he'd always kept between them as friends.

No matter how long they'd hung out, whether they were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie until four
A.M.
or camping in a tent up at Devil's Lake on the coldest weekend of the summer, he didn't actually sleep with Ava, ever. It just hadn't seemed like a good idea. She was snuggly and squirmy, and with all those soft spots rubbing up against him when he wasn't totally conscious, he'd been afraid he'd do something he shouldn't.

Of course considering all the things he'd done lately, that inadvertent grope he'd been so concerned about didn't really seem like such a big deal. And he'd liked the idea of holding her while she fell asleep,

So yeah, he'd been after the stay.

But Ava had just shaken her head at him and told him to sleep tight.

Maybe it was better. She had a knack for seeing the big picture and he trusted her enough not to push. So he'd gone downstairs and started counting down the hours until he'd have the chance to get at her again.

Now the waiting was almost at an end. He'd locked up the van and bolted for the shower to get all the plaster grit and sawdust out of his hair, from behind his ears, and from every other place Ava had put her mouth on him the night before. What he didn't do? Give in to the driving need to take himself in hand and beat out a little relief as he thought about the possibilities ahead. Because tonight was Ava's turn to pick, and his girl was crazy creative.

Add to that his recent discovery that she was also a little dirty and a lot enthusiastic—yeah, resisting the lure of the lather had been a monumental accomplishment.

One he was anticipating being rewarded for in about thirty seconds.

Taking the steps up two at a time, he glanced at the one last impulse buy he hadn't been able to resist. The single rose, with its little plastic water capsule at the end. He wasn't really a flowers guy, but there was just something about being with Ava that let him do all the things he never wanted to risk with the other women he was with.

He wasn't in love with Ava, but he loved her.

And the fact that their friendship was strong enough to allow them to take it to where they had—
Jesus,
that was incredible.

So he'd picked out the reddest rose, with the fullest blossom. And now he was standing at her door with his Walgreens haul in hand, feeling kinda like a chump of the highest order. But the one thing he knew he could count on with Ava was that it would make her laugh and smile, and she'd tease him about it but it would be in that way she had where he knew it came from the sweetest place.

And maybe she'd even like it.

Maybe she'd let him run the soft petals over all the soft places on her body and—

The door swung open in front of him. And
holy fuck,
forget about all those fantasies with Ava offering up one of those come-hither smiles he'd never realized she had in her. Standing in the doorway was Ava's big brother.