When We Kiss (16 page)

He chuckled low and deep, and she felt the vibration in her chest. “You like it.”

She did. She loved it.

“But I think I choose dining-room table for now,” he said. “The blinds in there are closed, I see. Later, I'm taking you up to your bed. If memory serves, it's particularly comfortable, and I think you have a vibrator in your bedside table—”

She pulled his head to hers and kissed him, her mouth open and wet and absolutely desperate. After plundering his mouth, she nipped his lip and looked into his eyes. They'd darkened to the color of blue spruce. “You're so naughty.”

He arched a brow. “You're the one with a sex toy at the ready.”

If they didn't escalate this situation fast, she was going to abandon him for said sex toy. “Table. Now.”

He slid his hands between her ass and the door and cupped her, squeezing her flesh. Then he lifted her up against the door and thrust, bringing him flush against her core and forcing a delighted gasp from her throat. “Put your legs around me.”

She encircled his hips with her legs and locked her feet together behind his ass. He was nice and snug against her now. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He kissed her hard and fast as he pivoted from the door. “You are so hot—in every sense of the word.” With a few short strides he carried her to the dining-room table. “You sure this is going to hold?”

“It's well made. Thick. Hard.” She laughed deep in her throat. “Listen to me. You are a
bad
influence.”

He walked to the head of the table and moved the chair there before setting her ass on the edge. “I love it when you talk dirty. You might persuade me into a long-distance relationship after all, especially if you promise Skype sex.”

His words should've dragged her out of the moment, brought her back to reality—the one where they had no future. But she'd become very adept at ignoring the voice of reason shouting in the recesses of her mind. He was just being flirty and sexy. A big tease.

She could dish it out as good as she could take it. “You don't want a long-distance relationship. You want a convenient screw, and right now that's what I want, too.”

He stood between her legs and clasped her hips, frowning. Frowning? “You are much more than that.”

“Am I?” Her pulse seemed to stop for a second, but it resumed its frenetic beat almost immediately.

He pushed her hair back from her face and pulled it down her back. “I care about you. A lot. You know that, right?”

She didn't want this conversation. Not right now. Maybe not ever. “You're killing my sex buzz right now,
you
know that, right?”

His mouth spread into a smile, and again her pulse reacted, this time speeding up. He was so unbelievably attractive, especially when he smiled. And when that smile was directed at you . . . She didn't think there was anything better.

“My bad,” he said, looping his thumbs into the back of her yoga pants. “I think these are in the way.”

“Along with everything you're wearing.”

He pulled at her pants and her underwear, and she lifted her ass from the table so he could strip them over her hips and off her legs. He wasted no time in moving back to stand between her thighs.

She pushed his shirt up and exposed his abs. He was impossibly fit and toned, as if he'd walked out of a
Men's Fitness
spread. The worst part was that she didn't think it took a lot of effort. Granted, he was very active and he did go to the gym, but she'd never seen him worry about what he ate or drinking too much beer.

She pressed her lips to his pec, tracing them over the muscle until she found his nipple. “Your body is so unfair.” She licked at him, then sucked hard. He loved that.

He sucked in a breath. “Are you complaining?”

“Only that you're moving too slow.” She trailed her mouth across his chest.

He grasped her hips again, kneading her flesh. “My bad again. Is it my fault I enjoy our sexy banter?”

“We didn't always have sexy banter,” she said. “I seem to remember our first couple of hook-ups being pretty much conversation-free.”

He brought one hand between her thighs and stroked along her cleft. She trembled with need. Suddenly she didn't want any conversation at all. She gripped his bicep. “Liam.”

“Mmm.” His mouth captured hers in a bruising, delicious kiss while his fingers teased her flesh.

She brought her hips up, seeking more than he was giving her. He was still moving too damn slow.

He broke the kiss and laid his palm flat against her chest. Then he pushed her back—gently but firmly—onto the table. The wood was cool on her bare, heated back. But the exquisite shivers dancing through her body had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with Liam. He thumbed her clit, circling her flesh, pressing down, driving her wild with an urgent craving.

She closed her eyes as he thrust a finger into her sheath, answering her need. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him. Now.

When she felt his tongue against her flesh, her eyes flew open. She tugged on his hair. “No. I don't want to wait.”

He licked along her folds and suckled her clit. “I've been thinking of this for days. Weeks.
Months
.”

His words excited her more than anything he'd done to her physically. He'd wanted her as badly as she'd wanted him. But that wasn't the obstacle between them. It was, if anything, part of the problem. To want someone so much yet remain unable to forge a future . . . The direction of her thoughts threatened to devastate what was left of her rational mind.

“Later,” she managed, barely clinging to sanity amid his touch, his words, his simple proximity.

He hovered over her, his breath tickling her cleft. “Promise?”

She dug her fingers into his scalp. “
Yes
. Now fuck me.
Please
.”

He kissed her one last time, his mouth drawing on her flesh just before he stood. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and withdrew a condom.

“I see you're prepared, as usual. You're such a cocky bastard.”

He arched a brow at her as he unbuttoned his jeans. “I'll show you cocky.”

She stared up at his hard chest, at the plane of his stomach, and lower as he revealed himself to her. He pushed his jeans and underwear down over his hips, and she snagged her lower lip with her teeth.

He rolled a condom over his length. “Damn it, Aubrey, this is going to be the shortest sex of my life if you don't stop looking at me like that.”

His admission brought a self-satisfied grin to her lips. She came up off the table, intent on touching his cock, but he pushed her back down and shook his head. “Nope. You said you wanted this
right now
. And I'm not in the mood to wait anymore either.” He pressed his palms against her inner thighs, opening her legs wider and positioning her at the very edge of the table.

The tips of his thumbs parted her folds, and the head of his cock inched in, stretching her. “God, you feel amazing. Better than I remember, and I remember you feeling pretty fucking fantastic.” His voice sounded tight, unbearably aroused.

She couldn't answer him, could barely process his words. He slid in farther, stretching her, filling her, giving her
almost
everything she needed. She reached out and curled her hands around each side of the table, then wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him fully into her.

“Aubrey, I can't . . . go slow.” He grabbed her hips and surged into her before whipping back out and thrusting forward again. She cast her head back against the table and gave herself over to the rhythm. Her orgasm was close, a promise she could almost taste. But for now she wanted this moment to last. This connection where they couldn't get enough of each other, where yesterday and tomorrow didn't exist.

He moved even faster, pummeling into her with a delicious friction. She squeezed her feet against his ass and wished she could hold him, but there was something so primal about being laid out before him naked while he was still partially clothed, his pants around his ankles, his boots still on his feet. That image made her moan. Or maybe it was the wet heat of his mouth on her breast as he suckled her deep and hard.

She cried out as she started to come. His mouth was abruptly gone, and she worried her orgasm might fly away, too. But then he touched her clit, and her orgasm slammed into her like a meteor crashing to earth.

There was blackness followed by a bright, blinding light, then darkness again as she fell over the cliff. His strokes grew faster, and he yelled. He pumped into her several more times before pitching forward. He caught himself, bracing his hands and then his elbows on either side of her. His rapid breaths came hard against her shoulder, and she nuzzled her cheek against him. He kissed her collarbone, then brushed her hair away from her ear so he could kiss her there, too.

“That was amazing. And I'm holding you to your promise of later,” he whispered.

Had she really promised that? Now that they were finished, reality was intruding on her mind, that voice of reason growing louder.

She'd said she would give herself tonight. She was already too far gone to save herself from heartbreak.

She would take tonight for all the other nights that she'd be without him. And she wouldn't allow herself to regret it.

L
IAM POPPED A
grape into his mouth while Aubrey refilled his wineglass. She'd graciously offered to share her pinot after their dining-room table adventure. She'd put her yoga pants back on but was now wearing his long-sleeved T-shirt while he was bare-chested. She didn't seem to mind, as he kept catching her staring at his abs.

He would've stared at her chest, too, if she hadn't been wearing his shirt. As it was, her nipples were clearly visible, and the swell of her flesh beneath the cotton only enticed him more. On second thought, he was staring at her chest anyway.

“What?” she asked, her brow furrowing for a brief moment before she took a sip of wine.

“Just appreciating the view.”

She rolled her eyes. “I've looked better.”

Actually, she'd never looked more beautiful. Her hair was slightly mussed, her cheeks were still pink from the sex, and he loved that he'd made her look like that. Pride and a savage sense of possession crested through him.

Possession? Where the hell had that come from? He inwardly shook himself.
Get your head on, Archer.

He shoved another grape into his mouth before he said something stupid, like telling her that she was completely different from any other woman he'd been with. Would that be so bad?

It would be when the woman in question wanted a steady, long-term relationship headed for the altar. She'd been pretty clear about that when she'd told him she wanted Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. He wasn't ready for that leap, and he might never be.

He'd built the life he wanted, and it wasn't even in the same state as her, let alone with the same goals. She wanted a husband. Stability. He wanted the next adrenaline rush. Which is what she was for him, he realized.

Fuck.

He took a long drink of wine.

“Listen, I can talk to my uncle. He's done a lot of land use. Honestly, he should've probably been helping me from the start—and he has been, in an advisory capacity. But I admit I didn't have him read the brief before I sent it to you. He's been really busy. He had a complicated trial to deal with.”

Liam was relieved for the change of topic, even if it was a potentially touchy one. “I'm sorry I said the brief wasn't good enough. You did a great job, considering it's your first one.”

She glanced at him as she plucked a cracker from the plate she'd set out. Once they'd pulled themselves together after the dining-room escapade, they'd come to the kitchen, where she'd assembled a snack plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers—and at his behest, salami. He was thankful because he hadn't eaten dinner.

“Don't feel like you have to pacify me,” she said. “Do you want to hire a new attorney? Someone with more experience? Maybe you could get Martin Delacorte.”

Delacorte was one of the few attorneys with even more land-use experience than Sutherlin. However, the brief was due in four days. “It's too late to hire someone else.” He realized immediately that had been the wrong thing to say. “I don't
want
to hire someone else. You'll do fine.”

She nodded, but he didn't think he'd made her feel any better. Damn it, he was an asshole. Wait, why was he overthinking this? This was business. She'd written a brief that needed more work. If she'd been anyone else, he wouldn't have thought twice about telling her that.

But she wasn't anyone else. She was the woman he was sleeping with. The woman he thought about more than he'd ever thought about another person outside of his family. That he was putting her in front of his family—this entire project meant everything to them, and by extension, to him—was disconcerting.

She lifted a shoulder. “If you say so.”

He wished they hadn't had to talk about the brief. It had put a damper on his postcoital bliss.

It was also reality, and they couldn't hide from it. No, but they could live in the moment and forget about everything else. He wanted tonight with her. Needed it.

She rolled a piece of cheese and a piece of salami together and took a bite. Absurdly, the cylindrical shape of the food entering her mouth sent a jolt of lust straight to his cock. Shit, he was a man obsessed. Hard not to be when she was sitting across the table from him with her sultry, just-been-screwed gaze lingering on his pecs. Reality could go fuck itself.

He helped himself to the food for a few minutes, hoping to stave off his caveman instinct, which was screaming at him to throw her over his shoulder and cart her upstairs.

She sipped her wine. “So what's going on with taking me flying? I'm submitting the brief on Monday, and you promised me a trip in an airplane.”

“I did. I'll see if we can go on Tuesday. If you can get away in the afternoon.”

“As it happens, the deposition I had scheduled was canceled, so I am free.”

Had they just made a date? No, this was part of their friends thing. Were they friends? Tonight they were definitely lovers, but like she'd said, it was only for tonight. And he'd take what he could get.

What did he really want?

Nope, not going there. That fell firmly in the reality category, and that was off-limits tonight.

As if she'd read his mind, she said. “This is not a date. Just to be clear. We go right back to the Friend Zone tomorrow morning.”

He picked up a cracker and a piece of salami, then sat back in his chair. “Got it. Although, you missed out on some fun times when you decided to dump me.”

She crossed her arms and also sat back. “Is that right? Why don't you enlighten me?”

And he'd walked right into that one, too. What would he have done? He would've seen her at Christmas if she'd been home. And New Year's if she'd bothered to answer his texts. And again in February after he'd dislocated his shoulder. Three perfectly good opportunities to spend time together and have a lot of sex. But that wasn't what she was asking. She wanted more. She deserved more. He wanted to give her more. Still, he didn't think he could ever give her what she wanted—a picket fence, a family, forever.

“I would've taken you up to our family cabin during the holidays. We would've skied, had a romantic dinner at Timberline Lodge, and made love in front of the fireplace.”

She looked mildly surprised or maybe doubtful, her brow arching. “Really?”

Ouch, her opinion stung, but could he fault her? “Yeah, really.” He'd had that exact plan in mind when he'd come home for Christmas.

“What else?”

“We would've spent New Year's together—either a swanky party in Portland or something quieter, maybe a cozy condo at the beach.”

She picked up her wineglass and smiled. “Sounds great. I love the beach. I'm saving up to buy a place there.”

His attention sharpened. “Are you?” He loved the Oregon coast. It was maybe the one thing that would eventually drive him out of Denver and back to Ribbon Ridge. Some day. “Where?”

“I like Pacific City a lot, but I love Cannon Beach. It's just so expensive. And not quite as accessible to Ribbon Ridge, since it's farther up the coast.”

He'd looked at a few investment properties in Cannon Beach and around Lincoln City. “I love Cannon Beach, too. It's got a great, artsy vibe nowadays.”

She nodded as she swallowed a drink of wine and put her glass back down. “I've been meaning to take a cooking class down there.”

He knew what she was talking about—there was a culinary school that did interactive dinner and cooking shows. “Yeah, those sound fun.”

“Maybe we'll go on our fictional beach trip.”

And that right there told him all he needed to know about their future. She didn't see one. All of this talk was just that: talk. Meanwhile, he had tonight with her. He finished his wine and stood.

Without saying a word, he swept her from the chair into his arms and started toward the stairs.

She linked her hands behind his neck and held on. “What are you doing?”

“Surrendering to my inner caveman.”

She laughed, and the sound banished the impending sense of loss that had lodged into his chest a moment ago. “Are you staying the night, then?”

He started up the stairs. “I'll stay as long as you let me.”

She didn't answer him until he laid her on the bed. “Just tonight,” she said softly.

Her room was almost dark, with only the light from downstairs filtering up and faintly illuminating her face. He drank in the sight of her, from her red hair to his gray shirt clinging to her breasts to the black yoga pants hugging her hips and thighs to her bare feet, with adorable aqua-polished toes. He admired women, of course, appreciated them. But looking at Aubrey this was something more than that. That feeling from earlier stole over him. Possession. She was his. If only for tonight.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing. Just . . . never mind.” He put his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss her. She tasted of wine and desire. He pulled back. “I should go put the food away and turn off the lights.”

She curled her hands around his neck and tugged him down on top of her. “Later. You made me a promise earlier, and my patience just ran out.”

“Is that so?” He fitted his body over hers, marveling at how well they fit together. If he kept making these connections, he was going to be in way over his head.

She kissed along his jaw and nibbled his earlobe. “First one undressed gets to choose top or bottom for the preshow.”

He drew back and looked at her. She smiled seductively, and he knew what she meant. That was among his favorite things to do with her. He jumped up and shucked his jeans and underwear. “I choose bottom.” He loved the feel of her hair over his thighs.

“No fair! You have way less clothes on than me.”

He watched her scramble to strip. “I didn't make the rules, babe.”

“I'm surprised you're following them. You Archers are notorious for walking outside the lines.”

He laughed. “You're onto us.”

Nude, she kneeled on the bed and crooked her finger at him. “I'm onto
you
. Now get over here so I can literally get on you.”

He'd never moved so fast in his life.

W
HEN
L
IAM WOKE
, the gray dawn was just creeping through the blinds of Aubrey's bedroom. She slept closest to the window, her hair fanned against the pillow. She lay curled on her side away from him. Even in sleep, he'd maintained a possessive hold on her hip, his hand splayed over her naked flesh.

There was that word again:
possession
.

But the night was over. Their fantasy had yielded to reality along with the darkness succumbing to the sunrise. Reluctantly, he let go of her hip, but not before he rolled close and brushed his lips along her collarbone.

She stirred, sighing, but didn't wake.

He slipped from the bed and went in search of his clothes. He glanced at the clock on her bedside table. His parents were early risers. If he didn't hurry, he might run into them as he snuck into the house, like some high schooler who'd stayed out all night. As it was, he might end up running into at least Dad, who loved bike rides at dawn.

He tiptoed downstairs and grabbed his jacket from the floor and helmet from the window seat. As he made his way to the door, he stopped in the entryway. Images of her plastered between him and the wood filled his memory. He looked toward the dining room and was immediately assaulted by the feel of her silky flesh as she held him tight between her legs while he thrust into her. He turned toward the stairs, recalling the final act—the delicious stroke of her tongue on his cock while he licked her slick folds, followed by her riding him with slow and devastating precision before he'd flipped her over and pounded into her until they'd both shouted their release.

Damn if he wasn't ready to go again right now. He set his coat and helmet on the bottom stairs and made his way up, not to initiate round three, but to tell her he was leaving. He didn't want to skulk off into the dawn like some one-night stand. They'd never been that, had they? He didn't think so.

He went back into her room and stopped short at seeing her sitting up in bed.

“You're leaving?”

“I was about to. I came up to say good-bye.” He inwardly cringed at that word. It made the entire night seem like a prelude to the end. When all he wanted was a
to be continued
.

Her gaze dipped to his crotch. “Are you sure you came up just to say good-bye?”

He smiled. “I'd blame morning wood, but the truth is I was thinking of last night. I really did come up to say good-bye. And thank you. I had a great time.”

She slid from beneath the covers and strode nude across the bedroom to her bathroom, where she opened the door and grabbed a robe from a hook on the back. His erection intensified and wasn't the least bit mollified by the garment now cloaking her spectacular body.

“I'll walk you down,” she said, preceding him from the room.

He trailed her down the stairs. The house was quiet, the space between them equally so, but there was a peace and a comfort he'd never experienced. Maybe the magic of the night wasn't over, after all.

She opened the door as he shrugged into his coat. He tucked his helmet beneath his arm and went to kiss her, but she pulled back. “I'll let you know what my uncle says about the brief.”

It was back to business, then. Back to being friends.

Maybe there hadn't really been any magic at all.

“Great. Talk to you later, then.” The second he stepped over the threshold into the cool morning air, it was like waking from a dream. Suddenly he felt agitated and unnerved, as if he'd been sexually frustrated instead of deeply satisfied. The rush, he realized, had worn off.

Or been stripped away.

He climbed onto his bike and backed out of her driveway before speeding off toward home. He really hoped he didn't run into either of his parents. For maybe the first time ever, he worried they might ask questions about where he'd spent the night, and he didn't want to answer them.