Twice Smitten (A Modern Fairy Tale) (17 page)

She asked the question, the one full of niggling of doubt. “And me?”

His answer was to pull down her underwear. When he straightened, he was still pressed close to her bottom. She arched her back.

He nipped at her shoulder blade and groaned, “Tease.”

“You…started it.”

He brushed her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neckline. “If we get started, we’re going to be late.”

Her chuckle was strained. “Just late?”

“Emma would never forgive you if you missed her engagement party.”

How was it possible that one comment was sexier than anything else he could have said? He understood the importance of her friendship with both Emma and Sasha. He hadn’t taken the obvious bait Sasha had put out, and he’d make sure Abigail made it to the party. A triple threat.

“But, this will just be a preview.” He sucked softly on her earlobe. “You’ll be coming home with me.”

She opened her legs to allow his hand room to explore. Already she was slick with want. He chuckled against the crook of her neck. She watched the smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Her skin flushed and her breasts rose and fell rapidly.

His gaze caught the motion in the mirror. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Just a little death,” Abigail said.

She bit into her bottom lip to trap the moan there as he took advantage of the stance. He gripped the back of her knee and lifted the limb up slightly. His fingers sunk into the skin of her thigh and the contrast of their skin was beautiful in the light. The heat of his palm burned through the silk stocking. Abigail leaned on his chest to stay balanced, and because the sight of them in the mirror made it hard to stay upright.

She averted her gaze because she couldn’t watch them, not like this and stay unaffected. Her senses felt heightened and alive, so alive. He was solid and right there behind her, touching her, caressing her. She relaxed more into him and trusted he would keep them both from tumbling to the floor.

The trust wasn’t freely given, it had been earned in the little things he’d done. Thoughts stopped when he tested the entrance of her core with a stiff finger. The movement dragged her gaze back to their reflection. His hand covered the action, blocking her view, but Abigail didn’t need to see his finger to lose the last bit of control. Her hips arched to meet the next thrust.

“Let’s see,” he rasped, moving her thigh a little more to the left, and they both watched his finger disappear inside her.

He groaned in her ear. An aching frustration of need built in her stomach as he took his time. Drew’s finger slid in and out, and he tested the contours of her with a bemused expression. He had to know what Abigail wanted.

With any other man she might have tried to take back a semblance of control, but with him she couldn’t help but meet the stroke of his finger, again and again. She moaned and grappled at his pants, fisted her hands into the material. Her back bowed and she tightened around him and finally he gave her the little death she’d been craving. He used soothing words to ease her back down, but they only seemed to heighten the moment. Those soft murmurings only made her skin flush hotter.

Finally, he released her leg and shakily she placed it on the floor. She trembled again on a moan. Without a break in stride, he released the clasp of her bra. “I’m starting to have a thing for stockings and a garter belt, Ms. Johnson.”

It was unfair, because he was dressed, and there Abigail was trembling from the effects of the mirror and his hand.

“Don’t move.” He held her gaze in the reflection.

Drew unbuttoned his shirt. How he felt pressed against her was nothing like him shirtless—it was simply breathtaking. His caramel skin was taut and sculpted. He freed himself of the slacks and then the underwear. She sighed, maybe even whimpered, at the sight of him.

All the while Abigail kept trying to figure out why it had taken this long for her to see him. Not as he was now, naked and beautiful for a man, but as the man he was underneath the charm and flippant attitude.

The easy answer: she hadn’t wanted to. Abigail couldn’t unless she was brave enough to turn her world upside down. She still lacked courage to go head long into what they were building, but she had definitely lost the fight to keep him at arms length.

“Top drawer,” she said, and waited for him to take out the condom.

The urgency in his movements didn’t stop him from being gentle. Once sheathed, again, he brushed aside her hair. He kissed her shoulder blade and left a blaze of kisses along her skin and bent forward, pushing her down with him.

At her ear, he whispered, “Fast or slow?”

Eyes closed, not able to look at them without shivering from the wanton image, Abigail said, “Leave me with no doubt it’s me.”

He grunted. “Look at us.”

She shook her head and suddenly his hands were on her breasts, her nipples, rolling the hardened buds between his thumb and forefinger. She whimpered and braced her arms along the dresser’s top.

“Leave no doubt it’s me,” he murmured.

Skin to skin and in her heels they were perfectly lined up. She felt the crown of his penis resting hot and heavy near her soaking channel. His hand slid around her waist, encircling it with one arm. Drew used his other hand to guide his sex to hers, to rub the head of his penis against her wet and aching flesh.

“I want you to see what I see, Abby.”

The plea forced her eyes open and she met her own gaze first. Something hot and desperate flicked behind her gaze. It seemed all of his limbs were entangled with hers and a sheen of sweat formed at his brow. His eyes stayed open as he pressed another kiss on her shoulder and met her gaze. Hunger. Want. Need. She wasn’t the only one ready for them to tumble to the floor in a blind and mindless mating. And there was one thing to be in the moment and another to witness the low-lidded eyes, the parted lips and the naked forms as it happened. Drew made a sound full of pleasure.

“It’s always been you, Abby.” He thrust hard and deep into her.

If he had said something to remind her of the Drew she’d held so long in her mind, Abigail could have kept the piece of herself, the part she’d protected with every man. If he’d murmured something that would have made her come faster, Abigail might have been able to write it off. But it wasn’t either. All this time Abigail believed, no, had been convinced out of the two she was the one most vulnerable if things went this far. She wasn’t. He stood the most to lose.

It had always been him.

Abigail would have protested so they could lie on the bed, or to slow down the pace, but with every stroke, he reached deeper within her, quelling any words. Why she waited this long to be here with him like this didn’t matter. She was with him like this now.

His breath was heavy against her neck, his skin slick and so close to hers. Bent over the dresser while he pounded into her, the position shouldn’t have felt intimate, but there was no way she could ever confuse his deep and long strokes with anyone else.

She said what he needed to hear and meant it, “It’s only you, Drew.”

Abigail gripped the edge of the dresser, and he placed his hands on her hips, grinding slowly into her. A moan wrenched from her throat. The minutes stretched and she took all of him and could only think of him. Her heart filled with him. When it became too much to bear she said his name again softly.

The tempo quickened and she lost her breath as another orgasm ripped through her.Drew stilled as she tightened around him. His eyes closed and a breath shuddered out as he jerked deeper and came.

In the reflection she could see him. He blinked and then had to widen his eyes as though dazed. She bit down on her lip, on a satisfied smile. He pulled out and she whimpered at the momentary loss.

“Come on.” He tugged her hand, walking backward until they were both sprawled on the bed, she on top of him. They were face to face again.

Drew didn’t move, but laid there catching his breath as she laid her head against his chest. Without him saying a word she knew them like this, limbs entangled, naked, vulnerable and quiet in their contentment, was enough.

Abigail glanced up at his face and laughed, feeling light, and loving the hazy expression he wore. Was it wrong to hope she was the only woman to ever put that look on his face?

“Your face right now…” She laughed harder. “My friends are going to know.”

He pulled her down to his lips and kissed her again, deeply. After awhile, he said, “You’re friends would be disappointed if we hadn’t.”

She cradled his face in her hands, not able to stop touching him. “You’re right.”

And it did feel that way.

Chapter Thirteen

“What time is it?” Abigail asked for the third time even though they were walking up the steps to Emma’s door.

Drew rang the door bell. “We’re forty minutes late.”

The comment eased some of the tension. “Your reputation’s taking a definite hit.”

He brought her closer, placed a kiss on her forehead. “You’re wearing the red dress I’ll be taking off later. I’ll gladly accept the momentary set back.”

She lifted her chin, inviting him down for a real kiss. “You have an incredibly big ego.”

With the same tenderness, he kissed her, and then said, “That’s not the only thing that’s big.”

She snorted. “I asked for that.”

“You knew I couldn’t resist.” He kissed her again.

The door opened, but it felt too good to pull back just yet, so Abigail basked in Drew’s mouth being on hers.

“Who’s this tall drink of water?” Pamela said.

Abigail wrenched from Drew’s embrace at the speed of light. She’d moved to fast and she couldn’t keep balance. Her shoes skidded over the concrete and she almost fell off the steps. Drew caught her elbow with one hand and with the other he reached out to Pamela’s for a handshake.

“Drew Carter.”

Not their first meeting and soon Pamela’s memory would catch up, and then things would go from bad to worse. Abigail did her best to keep the men she dated very far away from her mother. She waited until they reached a stage where the man wouldn’t run in the other direction screaming because Pamela was what he could look forward to when Abigail got older. No matter how hard they tried, women tended to become their mothers or just pick up the worst habits.

Shudder.

This was bad, bad, bad because she still had the sex glow. Well, up until her mother spoke. The glow dimmed more at the glint in her mother’s eye as the older woman took in Drew’s overall appearance, and the protective stance he’d taken.

Abigail could weave all types of stories about how she’d recently met Drew out here on the porch. No, he wasn’t Greg’s cousin, they just looked the same. They weren’t serious yet. Mountains and mountains of lies wouldn’t refute her mother’s keen senses.

Pamela took Drew’s hand and cinched the measure of the man. “Pamela Johnson.”

Her mother’s other hand fluttered up to her throat. In order to salvage the situation, Abigail moved in front of Drew.

“We’re late. Must do my air kisses with Emma and Tobias.”

“I can see why you’re late,” Pamela said.

Drew leaned forward and whispered, “Asked for that one, too.”

She elbowed him lightly in the stomach and marched forward to force her mother to step back. Abigail’s intention had been to drag Drew right along with her, but suddenly his warmth disappeared. Pamela had hooked her arm through his.

“You go right ahead. I’ll keep Drew here company.” Pamela smiled up at him, and Abigail’s stomach plummeted.

Drew returned the smile, one corner of his mouth notched up, and Abigail’s stomach clenched. He’d donned the game face. The battle of wits had begun. He may or may not be enjoying Abigail’s discomfort, but it wasn’t the point of contention. Drew found Pamela’s unsubtle actions to get him alone, and to grill him, amusing and a challenge.

She had no doubt he’d charm the socks off her mother, but Drew had no idea what he was up against. Personality-wise, Abigail and her mother may be worlds apart, but they both didn’t beat around the bush. They didn’t let the dead dog lie.

Before Pamela would let Drew loose she’d know their current and future status. If Drew, in any way, talked about Abigail as though he didn’t see her as a precious gem, Pamela would do her best to rip the man limb from limb.

It was the reason why Abigail didn’t bring men she was unsure of around her mother. If he passed with flying colors, it was hell to explain later why things didn’t work out. Her mother invested, which was insane since Pamela rarely did in her own life. But, that was family crazy for you.

Abigail stood there with indecision. Leave or stay? Her mother broke the standstill and fluttered a hand up in the direction of the kitchen. “Emma was cutting up some desserts to hand out to the guests.”

“I’ll be fine.” Drew smiled the one like a crook and directed it at Pamela.

Dismissed and despondent, Abigail headed to the kitchen. She found both best friends around the kitchen’s island. Josh had a dessert tray along his forearm like a waiter, and another sat on the island. His dark eyes lit when he saw Abigail. Not yet a man by her standards, he still looked handsome in the collarless dress shirt and black vest.

“Hog-tied you, I see,” she said as a way to say hi.

“Threatened then bribed,” he said.

She ignored both faux innocent expressions on her friends’ faces. “I’m guessing the former was done by Tobias and the latter by Emma.”

“You’re psychic.” Josh let out a droll sigh. “The looks on your faces is my cue to leave.”

Sasha held the door open for him, and the screen hadn’t smacked closed before the ribbing began. “You’re late. The tips of your hair are slightly curled from being wet. Now is that from a shower or sweat?”

Sasha reached for a bite-sized cake and had her hand lightly tapped by Emma. “I have them set up perfectly.” Without missing a beat, Emma took a napkin and picked up one of the cakes cooling on the stove. She gave it to Sasha who nodded her thanks. “My guess is from both. First the sweat then the shower.”

Abigail crossed her arms. “If I knew I would get this treatment, I would have stayed home.”