Best Man's Conquest (13 page)

“It gets better.” She reached into his pajama bottoms and circled a hand around his erection. He mumbled a curse and his eyes rolled up. But when she tried to pull the pajamas down she only got them halfway past his hips before he caught her hand.

“We're outside,” he reminded her.

She knew that. And to top it all off the light from the bedroom was silhouetting their bodies quite clearly.

“Oh, yeah?” She shook off his hand and shoved his pajamas the rest of the way down. “What's your point?”

Then she was off her feet. She gasped as her back slammed hard against the villa wall beside the door. She was pinned between the door and the balcony railing, between rough stucco and Dillon's long, lean body. He hesitated for a second, went stone still, as though he was afraid
he
might have gone too far.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and ground herself against him, so he could feel how wet she was. “Yeah, but I liked it.”

He seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and he didn't hesitate. He drove himself inside her, hard and swift and so deep that she cried out. With pain and shock and pure ecstasy.

Dillon pulled out, hovered there for a second, torturing her. Then he plunged forward, and she gasped as the rough wall dug into her back. She'd spent such a long time dulling her feelings, pretending they didn't matter. Now all she wanted to do was feel. Pleasure and lust and pain. She wanted it all, right here, right now. There was no such thing as too much.

“Harder,” she gasped and he drove hard against her, inside her. And when it wasn't hard enough, she dug her nails into his back, dragged them across his skin.
“Harder.”

He did as she asked. He may have been the one driving, but she had her foot on the accelerator. She was still in control.

She could feel him tensing, feel him losing it. Bit by bit.

She
was doing that to him.
She
was making him lose control.

And when he took the plunge, when he shuddered and roared with release, she went over with him.

Nothing will change for you until you take control of your life and decide that you will be happy. You need movement in a positive forward direction.

—excerpt from
The Modern Woman's Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)

T
here were orgasms, and then there were
orgasms.
The kind that grabbed hold and didn't let go until the absolute last bit of energy had been wrenched out. The kind that released so many endorphins and pheromones that it took several minutes for her body to realize it was twisted like a pretzel, to register that the tingling in her back was not from arousal, but the sharp stucco facade shredding her skin like cheddar on a cheese grater.

“Ow.”

Dillon lifted his head from her shoulder, where he'd dropped it a few minutes ago while he caught his breath. He shifted and she winced. “Problem?”

“Wall…sharp.”

Only then did she notice the grimace on his face.

“Disengage your claws and I'll let you down.”

Oh, jeez! She hadn't even realized she was still clinging to him. She loosened her grip and he eased her away from the wall and set her on her feet.

He pulled her into the bedroom, into the light. “Turn around. Let me see the damage.”

He examined her back and she watched him over her shoulder, trying to gauge his expression. “How bad is it?”

“Is the dress you're wearing for the wedding backless by any chance?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Then it's bad.”

“How bad?”

“It looks like someone ran a belt sander across your back. And you have pieces of the wall still stuck to your skin.”

“That would explain the pain, I guess.”

He touched her lightly between her shoulder blades and the sting made her wince. “We need to get this cleaned up.”

He turned her again and nudged her in the direction of the bathroom. When they were inside he switched on the light. Just like her bathroom, it was really bright with lots of mirror space. Miles of it. The floor-to-ceiling kind that screamed out each and every detail, down to the tiniest imperfection. Ivy crossed her arms over her breasts and sucked in her tummy, wishing she could suck in her hips, too. And her butt.

Dillon had no imperfections, she noticed, as he rummaged through his shaving kit. Nope. He looked just fine. Nicely shaped butt, muscular thighs…

He turned and crouched down to check the cupboard under the sink. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in horror.

He emerged with a first aid kit, and when he saw the look on her face asked, “What's wrong?”

“Your tuxedo isn't backless, is it?”

He turned to the mirror, inspecting the long red welts criss-crossing his back from his shoulders all the way down to his butt. “I never knew you had such a wild side.”

She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

He hooked a hand behind her neck, drew her to him and kissed her. Not quite passionate, but not a peck, either. “Darlin', that was not a complaint.”

He let her go and set the first aid kit on the bathroom counter. He rummaged through it for cotton and antiseptic. How could he be so casual? Didn't he feel the least bit self-conscious standing there naked? She sure did.

“Turn around.” He dabbed antiseptic on the cotton.

“This might sting.”

When the cool liquid touched her raw skin she tensed and sucked in a breath.

“Sorry.” He dabbed slowly and gently, starting at the top and working his way down. She wondered what he was thinking. If he was looking at her and noticing the way her body had…
spread.

“My body has changed,” she said, in case he hadn't noticed. So he wouldn't suddenly look at her and think
Ack, who is this cow I've been sleeping with?
“I don't look like I did in college.”

“Good,” he said, looking at her in the mirror. “I'm turned on by women, not girls.”

Oh, well, lucky her.

He tossed the used cotton in the trash and fished out a fresh one. “Besides, you don't really look all that different.”

“I think your memory is failing.”

“My memory is crystal clear,” he said, flashing a devious grin over her shoulder. “I have video.”

Video? “What kind of video?”

“
The
video,” he said.

Her jaw dropped and her heart bottomed out. She hadn't thought about
the
video for years. She had no reason to, considering he'd told her he erased it.

“Our
special
video?” she asked. “The one you absolutely
swore
you got rid of?”

“I lied.”

There were things on that video that she'd done for him, done to herself, without him in the frame, that he could have at any time used against her. He could have ruined her career. Her
life!

“All done.” He tossed the used cotton in the trash and turned her toward him.

“Why did you keep it?”

“I wasn't planning on using it against you, if that's what you're thinking. We made that for us. No one else is going to see it.
Ever
.”

Well, that was good to know. And it made her feel like even more of a slime for the things she'd written in her book. How could she have been so vindictive and immature? He'd had the ammunition to retaliate big-time, but he hadn't done it.

“I am such an ass,” she said.

He sat on the edge of the counter and pulled her closer, between his slightly parted knees. God, he was beautiful. And she must be completely nuts, totally off her rocker to be standing here naked with him, casually chatting, as though they hadn't just had sex so wild and out of control that they'd required first aid afterward.

And it would be a lie if she said she didn't want to do it again.

“Are you angry?” he asked.

She wasn't sure what to feel.

He pried her arms from their position guarding her chest and took her hands in his, weaving his fingers through hers. “The truth is, I don't really know why I kept it. I didn't even remember I had it until about a week ago. It was stashed in the back of my safe.”

A ripple of excitement, a shiver of anticipation, rippled across her skin. “Did you…watch it?”

He nodded.

Oh. My. God.

Just talking about it was getting him hard again. Not just getting. He was already there. And she was feeling that warm, fuzzy sensation. It started in her scalp and worked its way south toward her toes in a slow, easy rush.

She could hardly believe what she was going to ask next. Something was definitely wrong with her. “Then what did you do?”

A grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure you want to know?”

She did and she didn't. But mostly she did, despite the fact that it was a little depraved and incredibly kinky.

She nodded.

“I watched it…” He rounded his hands over her hips, pulled her a little closer. “Then I went up to my room…” He leaned forward and nibbled her neck, her shoulder. “I took off my clothes…” His breath was warm on her ear and Ivy felt hot and cold all over—

“Then I took a very long, cold shower.”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. “That was mean.”

He laughed. “I had you going, though.”

She took a moment to breathe in his scent, to enjoy the way their bodies fit together, every dip and curve. It felt exactly the same. It felt…
right.

And
so
wrong.

“What are we doing, Dillon?” She looked up at him. “We're divorced.”

“Last I heard there's no law against sleeping with your ex.” He tucked her hair back behind her ears. It was such a simple, sweet gesture of affection. One you did after being with someone for a long time. And that was kind of what this felt like. As though they hadn't really been apart for ten long years. It was as if it had been a week or two and they were picking up exactly where they'd left off.

Only wiser.

“How's your back feel?”

Back? What back? With his arms wrapped around her, his body warm and close, she hadn't even noticed. “It feels much better.”

“I guess we got a little carried away.”

“I guess we did.”

“I pride myself on my stamina, but you took me down in seconds flat,” he admitted. “Before tonight, no one has ever managed to do that.”

“Is that a fact?” She took his hands and pulled him backward toward the door. “Well, then, May be we oughtta' go into the bedroom and see if I can do that again.”

 

It mystified Ivy how some things never changed. She and Dillon had fallen easily back into their old routine. They made love, talked for a while, then made love again. Repeating the cycle until the hazy light of dawn crept up on them.

It was as frightening as it was settling. To know someone so well, but not really know them at all. To realize that as good as it could be, they had nowhere to take this. No future.

They lay curled up in the dark under the covers facing each other, arms and legs entwined, as though they couldn't bear the idea of not touching each other. Not being close. Not looking each other in the eye.

May be because they both knew that after this week it might never happen again.

“Why didn't you ever remarry?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “I guess once was enough. How about you?”

“I guess I never met anyone I liked enough to make that kind of commitment.”

“You always were a little commitment phobic,” he said, but she could tell by his smile he was teasing. “How many times did I have to ask you out before you finally said yes?”

“Enough that I realized you weren't ever going to stop asking. I was so nervous on that first date. I was so afraid you were going to try to take advantage of me. But you were a perfect gentleman.”

“And it nearly killed me. The way I wanted you.” He smiled and shook his head. “That was the longest three months of my entire life.”

“I never told you this, but you were my first.”

“Yeah, I sorta figured.”

“You never said anything.”

“I thought that if you wanted me to know you would have said so.”

“Right from the start we didn't talk to each other, did we? We couldn't be honest. May be we just didn't know how.”

“I guess we finally figured it out,” he said.

“Yeah, ten years too late.”

“Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Too late.”

He couldn't be serious. She propped herself up on her elbow. “You know that after this week, this has to end. It can't go any further than this bedroom. If it were to get out, that would be the end of my career. My writing, my practice. I would lose everything.”

He sighed and rolled onto his back. “I guess that is a lot to ask, isn't it?”

“Besides, my mom would disown me if you and I ever got back together.”

He grinned. “She never did like me much.”

“And how would your mother react if you brought me home for dinner?”

“I'm thinking…stroke, heart attack.”

She scooted up close to him and rested her head on his chest, sighed as his arms went around her. She had gone far too long without this. When she got back to the States, she would have to start dating again. Start living her life instead of watching it roll past without her. “We have until Sunday. Three more days. Let's just enjoy them while we can.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was a
good
plan, so why couldn't she shake the feeling, the fear, that three days with Dillon wouldn't be nearly enough?

 

A loud, insistent pounding roused Ivy from a dead sleep. She tried to open her eyes but the room was too bright.

What time was it?

She squinted at the clock. They'd been sleeping for a whole three and a half hours.

The pounding stopped, then immediately started up again. Beside her, Dillon groaned and stuffed the pillow over his head.

She gave him a poke. “Someone is knocking on your door.”

“No kidding,” he said, his voice muffled and cranky. He never had been a morning person. Of course, they hadn't gone to sleep until after seven, so this was technically like the middle of the night. “They'll go away.”

They didn't. Whoever it was pounded harder, then Dale called, “Dillon, wake up! It's important!”

Dillon mumbled and cursed. He flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, naked and beautiful. She couldn't have asked for a better view. A full moon in the morning.