Uncharted Waters (13 page)

He started for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Drew.”

He didn't stop. “I'll be over at about eight o'clock. I'd appreciate if you'd have Kevin ready to go.”

“Drew... Damn it. Wait.”

Shoving open the front door, he stepped out onto the porch and sucked in a deep breath of cool night air, realizing for the first time how badly he needed to breathe.

“Guilt can be a terrible thing,” she said from behind him. “It can be a horrible burden for someone to carry inside him for a long period of time.”

He didn't turn to face her. “Let it go, Alison.”

“I can't. Not when I can plainly see that you're hurting. You're wrong to blame yourself.”

“You weren't there. You don't know what went down.”

“I know what I see now. And it's killing me to see you this way.”

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the way Rick had looked when he'd been holding on for his life. He saw panic and terror jammed into five seconds of pure hell. He could still smell the stink of burning fuel oil. He remembered vividly how it had felt when Rick's hand slipped from his grasp.

He turned to her. “This isn't your problem.”

“You're my friend. Of course it is.”

“Exactly how do you think you can help?”

“I don't know. We could...talk it out. Get counseling.”

“Talking doesn't change the way things are. It can't rewrite the past and it sure as hell can't bring Rick back.”

“Maybe not, but it can help you deal with his death. It can help you put things into perspective.”

He thought about the weeks he'd seen the Navy shrink, and shook his head. He wondered how talking to some doctor with a fancy title could put the death of a man into perspective. He looked over his shoulder at Alison and wondered if it could help him deal with his lust for that man's wife. “Look, if you change your mind about tomorrow, call me, okay?” He started for the porch steps.

“Why won't you talk to me? Why won't you look at me? Damn it, Drew, what are you afraid of?”

Her words stopped him in midstride. Angry, he turned back to her—and froze. The sight of her standing beneath the porch light made his pulse spike. He could see the silhouette of her thighs through the thin material of the dress. They were slender and long and...incredible. Her hair shone like silk beneath the light, as if each strand were a different shade of blond. Her eyes were concerned and wary and level on his. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but she'd pushed him too far.

“Are you sure you really want to know what I'm afraid of?” he asked.

She stared at him, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. In the back of his mind he wondered why she was breathing hard. Wondered if she was angry or exasperated with him. Or maybe she was as aroused as he was.

The thought sparked a fire that burned a path straight to his groin. Logic faltered and failed. His control left him with an almost audible snap. He started toward her at a brisk clip. Alison stepped back. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came.

He reached her an instant later and looked deeply into her eyes. “You really want to know what I'm afraid of?” he repeated. “Do you?”

Her eyes were luminous beneath the porch light. Within their blue depths he saw his fate, and he knew how this moment was going to end. He'd already lost the battle with his conscience, with his intellect, with his control. All he had to do now was lose the war, and he was well on his way to doing just that.

When she didn't answer his question, he took her lovely face into his hands. “This,” he said and crushed his mouth to hers.

S
omewhere in the back of her mind Alison knew kissing Drew was a bad idea. An instant before his mouth came down on hers, the intellectual side of her brain sent out a barrage of alarms loud enough to rattle her teeth, warning her to disengage herself, walk back into the house and lock the door behind her. Maybe because she knew what would happen next. Maybe because she knew there was no way this could end any way but disastrously. But even knowing all of those things, she didn't push him away.

His mouth seared hers, his tongue seeking entry. Even as she told herself this was wrong, that it would only lead to heartache for both of them, she opened to him. He tasted her, making a sound low in his throat, and she felt her body go fluid in his arms.

Slipping his hand to her nape, he tilted her mouth to his. His body shifted close. Hers answered involuntarily, falling softly against him. His left hand skimmed down her back to her hip. A low growl emanated from deep in his throat when he cupped her backside and squeezed. He deepened the kiss, his breaths coming hard and fast against her cheek, keeping time with the rapid-fire beat of her heart.

Alison saw stars. Great explosions of white light as the blood rushed from her brain to other parts of her body. Dizziness swooped down on her. To keep herself
from sliding to the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He responded, pressing his body full-length against hers. The feel of him stunned her. He was powerfully built, and she had to smother a gasp when she felt his erection against her belly, like a thick steel rod prodding her.

“You feel the way I thought you would,” he growled. “Too damn good.”

She closed her eyes against the power of the sensations pelting her. He feasted on her mouth, plundering like a man deprived. Her control teetered and began to slip away. Vaguely she was aware of the porch light shining down on them, and realized belatedly that this wasn't the best place to do this. Breaking free, she sucked in a breath, realized that she was panting. That her pulse was pounding like a freight train in her ears.

“W-wait,” she managed to gasp.

He didn't wait. Before she could take another breath, the heat of his mouth singed her neck. She felt the wetness of his tongue against her throat, and her head lolled back, giving him better access. Another alarm blared when his fingers fumbled at the buttons on the front of her dress. But at the same time her breasts grew heavy in anticipation. An involuntary moan escaped her when his knuckles brushed over her nipples. She'd never ached like this. Never needed with such ferocity. Never felt as if her body belonged to somebody else.

“This probably isn't a good place to do this,” he whispered.

“Neighbors,” she said between breaths.

Somehow he'd managed to get the door open. Never taking his mouth from hers, he guided her inside, then closed the door behind them with his foot. Locked in an awkward dance, he brought his body against hers.
A gasp of pleasure escaped her. The next thing she knew she felt the cool wood of the door against her spine as he backed her against it.

“Better,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

Her dress had fallen open at some point. The realization that the only thing separating her from him was the thin material of her bra made her shiver. The need for caution warred with the desperate need snapping and coiling inside her. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. His curse burned through the air when he couldn't get to the flesh inside. She couldn't bring herself to help him, but, oh, how she wanted him to touch her there.

An instant later the clasp sprang. She shivered as cool air enveloped her breasts. It had been so long since she'd been touched like this, she'd forgotten how powerful it could be.

“I want to fill my hands with you,” he whispered.

She cried out when he cupped her, gasped his name when he trapped her sensitized nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. The last of her control tumbled away when he bent his head and took the sensitive tip into his mouth.

Closing her eyes against the hot burst of ecstasy, she arched, needing in a way she'd never needed before, wanting with a desperation she hadn't known was inside her. Her vision ebbed and flowed when he flicked her nipple with his tongue.

“Drew...”

“Let me,” he said, taking the taut peak between his teeth and nipping gently.

Pleasure arced like a thousand volts of electricity through her body. Alison writhed, heard herself groan.
Insanity descended and she gave it free rein. Fever grew within her, a fire burning out of control. He suckled and nibbled and teased until she thought she would explode. She could feel the hot pulse of wetness between her legs. He hadn't even touched her there and she felt on the verge of orgasm. The power of it left her incredulous and filled with awe that he could do this to her.

When he raised his head and gazed into her eyes, she knew she was lost. To the moment. To him.

“You asked me what I was afraid of,” he said softly.

“This,” she whispered.

“You,” he said and kissed her.

Bracing her against the door, he lifted her, parted her thighs and quickly stepped between them. She heard fabric rip, realized her dress had torn at the slit. She didn't care.

“Wrap yourself around me,” he whispered. “Now.”

Aware only of him, of his words, the feel of him against her and the need rampaging through her, she locked her legs around his hips, starkly aware that nothing but a scrap of wet silk separated them. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her. Saying her name, he moved against her. Need sang through her body, so urgent she wanted to cry out. Arousal flowed like lava in her blood, churning and heating until she thought it would burn her alive.

She'd long since stopped thinking about consequences. The pleasure he gave her had silenced the tiny voice of reason in her head. She had no idea where this would lead them. If he would hurt her. Or if this went any further, if she would somehow end up hurting him.

As he kissed her long and hard and deep, she could only hold on for dear life and trust that he would see them through.

* * *

Drew poured four years of wanting and grief and guilt into kissing Alison. He touched her, awed by the softness of her flesh in his hands. Her beauty awed him. Her responsiveness humbled him, and his need for her soared to a fever pitch. In the backwaters of his mind, he wondered how she could want him. How she could want the man who had caused her husband's death.

He fought the descent of guilt. Fought it with all his might, using the pleasure of holding her, of kissing her as a shield against the pain.

It wasn't enough.

Vaguely he was aware of her crying out his name as he kissed her, as his body moved against hers. He worked hard to pull himself back. But wanting her was like a sweet madness that beckoned like a siren drawing a hapless sailor onto treacherous rocks. He held her against the door, keenly aware that her legs were wrapped around his hips.

The knowledge that she wanted this devastated him. That she was wet and hot and open overwhelmed him with desire for her. All he had to do was move the thin scrap of material aside and he could have her. Have the woman he'd wanted for so long that the need had become a part of him.

Kissing her was like breathing and he felt as if he would die if he stopped. He fed on her like a man deprived of life-giving oxygen. Sliding his hand along her thigh, he moved the elastic of her panties aside. She stiffened slightly, but he didn't stop and dipped two fingers into the wet heat at her center.

She went rigid. A mewling sound escaped her, followed by his name on a sigh. “Drew...”

“Easy. Let me touch you.”

“This is...”

“This is not enough.”

“Too much...”

“I want more.” He stroked her, firmly and deeply and she moved tentatively against him, taking his fingers more deeply into the most intimate part of her.

“Drew...”

He closed his eyes against the raw intimacy of the moment, knowing fully that it was precious and rare and may never happen again. Her body began to contract. He whispered her name, stroking her, holding her as she writhed and cried out his name.

“I'm falling,” she said.

“I've got you,” he whispered. “I won't let you fall.”

Her arms tightened around him. Her body jolted. He heard his name on her lips. She peaked, and he felt her release as if it were his own.

“Alison,” he whispered.

The beauty of the moment shook him. That she would give him such a gift amazed him. A moment later the high-wire tension left her body and she sagged against him, pressing her cheek to his. Drew held her. He kissed her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose, her mouth. Always her mouth. He would never get enough of her mouth.

He didn't want to stop. He never wanted to stop when it came to Alison. What they'd shared was pure magic. But he knew it would make their relationship infinitely more complex. Maybe even impossible to maintain. But he'd gotten a taste of her, and he still
wanted her so badly that he found himself willing to betray the best friend he'd ever had.

Take care...Alison and Kevin...

Rick's words came to him out of nowhere and with the force of a physical blow. The pain jolted him. The ensuing guilt devastated him. Suddenly he was aware of Alison against him. That his hands were on her body, inside her body. That he was aroused and on the verge of doing something irrevocable. Something he would never forgive himself for.

Easing away from her, he steadied her against the door and took a step back. Her eyes met his. Within their vivid blue depths, he saw everything he had feared for four long years. He saw desire. Tenderness. Respect. Caring. Emotions he'd longed to see, but would never be able to accept or reciprocate.

“Alison,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

Her mouth was wet and chafed from his whiskers. The buttons of her dress were undone and one side lay open, exposing the curve of her breast and the dark peak of her nipple. He wanted to replace the material and cover her, but he didn't dare touch. He knew there was a very good possibility that if he did he wouldn't stop.

He was keenly aware of her wetness on his fingertips. That she looked as if she'd just been thoroughly ravaged. They were both breathing as if they'd run a ten-mile marathon. Her pupils were dilated, nearly hiding the vivid blue of her irises. Her face was flushed and beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead.