In Your Wildest Dreams (37 page)

"Well," she said with a teasing expression, "all the cool kids are doing it, so I tried it, too. Afraid I'm hooked now."

"An expensive habit," he replied. "At least seventy-five cents a day. Think you can afford it?"

"I might have to sell my body."

He glanced down at her curves showing so clearly through the meshy fabric, "/might have to buy it."

She bit her Up, somehow able to look both sexy and sheepish at the same time. "I'm
...
sorry I came out here like this. I was just..." She shook her head softly.

He let out a laugh. "Horny?"

She cast an indulgent grin. "No. Well, maybe. But I wouldn't have used that particular word." "What word would you use?" "Aroused, perhaps." "By?" "You."

"I wasn't anywhere near you,
chère."
"Doesn't matter."

"I must not know my own strength." He spared another glance for the negligee, which looked even better on her than he could have predicted. "But I have damn good taste, no?"

"Yes, and it seemed a shame to let it sit in a bag all night long when we could be putting it to good use." She drew in her breath. "I
...
hope it's okay. That I came."

He smiled—and allowed himself to be honest. He was so damn happy to see her he could barely measure it. "It's more than okay,
beb.
Layin' in my bed like that, you look like..."

"What?"

He let his smile widen, even though she couldn't possibly know why. "A dream come true."

She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with heat. "I want to
make
your dreams come true, Jake Broussard."

He ran a hand over her hip, lowering another lingering kiss to her moist lips. "You already do." Then he chuckled. "You have no idea."

She grinned. "Having dirty dreams about me?"

"Maybe a time or two."
Or ten.

"Then I'm glad I came out here, so you can have the real thing."

"Speakin' of which ..." He straightened slightly as a worrisome thought assaulted him. "You didn't take somebody's pirogue out here again, did you?"

She shook her head and he relaxed. "I drove. Tony gave me directions—and a key."

He grinned, imagining the kick his buddy must have gotten from this turn of events. "Where's your car?"

"I hid it. Parked behind some trees to the right of the house."

He arched a skeptical brow. "Stephanie Grant, PI, back on the job."

"A whole different kind of job," she said, her voice gone silky, sexy. She flashed a come-hither smile and he realized that, for a novice, Miss Stephanie did sexy
extremely
well.

Letting her expression seep into his bones, he pushed to his feet and stripped off his T-shirt. Below him, Stephanie reached up to press her palm over the ridge of his erection and he sucked in his breath at her heavenly touch.

"Tell me something. What if I'd come by pirogue? I wouldn't have found your mints."

She squeezed lightly and smiled up at him. "There happens to be a trail of mints in that direction, too."

With that, she shifted to her knees to work at his belt buckle, her moves brisk without being hurried, and watching her toil to get him undressed made his skin sizzle with anticipation. After unzipping, she pushed down the jeans and he helped her until they dropped to his ankles. She wasted no time in lowering his underwear as well.

"I want to make you feel so good, Jake," she whispered, her voice filled with a sweet, hungry desperation that nearly buried him.

He reached to cup her face, thread his fingers back through her loose hair. "You do,
beb.
Mon Dieu,
you do."

She sighed below him, looking somehow bereft. "But
...
more than that," she said. "I want to
...
make you forget. I want to make it so
...
so there's only me and you. Nothing to hurt us. Nothing to hurt
you.
No painful memories. No guilt. Just good things."

He swallowed past the lump that had just risen in his throat with the realization that. . . "You do that, too,
beb.
You make me forget. When I'm with you..." How to explain? It felt so complicated inside him—and yet, so utterly simple, too. "When I'm with you, there
is
nothin' else."

She continued peering up at him from below as she licked her lips, then lowered her mouth over him. His breath went instantly ragged, his hands slowly kneading her hair and scalp. He had to brace his knees to keep from going down as spirals of sensation swirled through his torso, chest, thighs.

He watched her, her ministrations brimming with so much emotion—and
that
was what was burying him. He'd told her once that it was the act of connecting with a woman's body that moved him the most—but somehow, right now, he found himself thinking
this
was the most amazing sex he'd ever had. He knew no woman had ever given him more of herself.

When she reached for his hand and drew him onto the bed, he was more than happy to snuggle in close against the rise and fall of her body, their tongues mingling in slow, thorough passion. Part of him could have lain there all night, just kissing her, touching her. But he craved more, so he found himself moving south.

She sighed beneath him, soft and pretty, as he pulled the slip down over her breasts, the elasticized fabric catching on the underside. He drew one rigid peak between his
li
ps
, feeling each pull in the small of his back, the muscles of his thighs, and—of course—between
his
legs. He'd not thought to put on any of
Mamère's
albums, but Stephanie's sweet, tender moans mixed with the night sounds of the bayou beyond the window to provide the perfect music.

His kisses trailed down over her smooth stomach through the slip, past the shadow of her belly button, until he was pushing the fabric up over her thighs to her waist to bestow a firm, nipping kiss to the front of her new panties. He drew back, casting a wicked grin. "Pretty,
chère."

She returned the sexy smile. "Happy with your selection, hmm?"

He replied with a slow nod. "Very." Then he whispered, "Roll over."

Slowly, she complied, drawing her knees up under her. Despite the heat, he shivered at the sight. Crazy, he knew—he'd seen women in thongs before. But this was Stephanie, his Stephanie, who'd loosed her inner desires for him, who'd turned his dreams to reality. Steep arousal drew his hands to her bottom to mold the round flesh— before he reached for the strip of lace above, easing it down until the thong dropped past her thighs. "Please," she whimpered.

Her need thrilled him. "Please what,
beb
?
Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me."

His
need went as thick as the bayou heat. He bestowed one gentle kiss to the small of her back before easing into her. "How's that?" he asked, sliding deeper.

"Mmm, yes, perfect," she said through breathy sighs.

Within seconds, he was driving into her with an uncontrolled heat, and she met each stroke in that perfect rhythm, so ancient and impossible to improve upon—and no,
this
was the most amazing sex he'd ever experienced.

No,
every
union with Stephanie was amazing,
equally
amazing,
impossibly
amazing.

"Mon Dieu,"
he breathed helplessly—that quickly pushed over the edge of desire. And then the pleasure swept him away, up to the sky, down to the bottom of the deepest ocean. It made him think of the dream where he saw everything, every color, every world—and it was all about Stephanie. He rode out the pulses inside her until he slowly came back to himself, back to the bed, back to the woman who'd somehow started filling his world without him ever knowing it, and now she was almost all he knew.

He collapsed softly atop her, managing to lower an exhausted kiss to her neck. "I'm sorry,
beb"
he whispered.

"Sorry?" She sounded truly puzzled.

He couldn't help letting out a small laugh. Nice thing about a woman not real experienced at passion—she didn't realize he should have been able to give her a lot more. "Sorry I finished so fast." He stroked a hand through her hair, bent to nip at her earlobe. "I wanted to go all night in you."

She rolled from beneath him until they lay in a loose embrace, her body still sheathed in the clingy slip, stretched in beautiful, wild disarray across her skin. "I don't think I could take that all night, Jake."

Her smile warmed him, made him try to stay awake through the lethargy that came after climax. "Still, I wanted to give you more. I didn't even make you come."

She shook her head. "I don't think it's always about that for me. Remember when you told me your favorite part was the connection? Well, I think that's my favorite part, too. With or without an orgasm. I love the way you feel in me."

He buried his face against her shoulder and drank in her scent—something soft and flowery, remnants of the day's perfume. "I love bein' inside you, too." He lowered a kiss to her neck, but suffered a strange, soft wrench of his stomach. Had he just said too much?
Almost
too much?

He shut up, went quiet, just anchored his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and let the lure of sleep take him before he could worry anymore.

When Stephanie awoke, the lights were out, but the digital clock next to the bed said it was after three. The bed beside her was empty, yet the lulling sounds of insects reminded her Jake was probably out on the dock. She'd known instinctively from the first time she'd found him here that the bayou called to him in some way she'd probably never quite be able to fully understand.

Glancing down as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the hem of her sexy nightie hovering at her hips and remembered the hot abandon of their sex, how it had at once been so easy—easy to want to do everything with him—and at the same time so intense. Each time she made love with Jake, the heat between them ratcheted up a notch. Her body warmed at the memory as she lay back against the pillow and smiled. If only everything in life was as easy as Jake made sex for her.

Sitting up on the side of the bed, she pulled down her negligee, then padded across the hardwood floor and over the last remains of old linoleum in the kitchen until she was quietly opening the door, stepping outside. Jake sat on the glider in black boxer briefs, looking like every woman's fantasy. But her reality. "Hey," she said.

He raised his gaze, then dropped it to her nightie with a sensual smile. "You runnin' around without panties again,
chère?'

"What can I say? You bring out the wild woman in me.

He patted the seat next to him and said, "I know I do. Come here."

She joined him, curling one leg comfortably beneath her, and he put his arm around her, drawing her in for a warm, openmouthed kiss. "Mmm, still minty."

"You too."

He drew back slightly to look at her. "I wonder what Mrs. Lindman would think if she could see you now— runnin' around with barely anything on out on the bayou."

She laughed. "I also wonder what she would think if she realized I didn't sleep in my room every night."

"Like I said before, I think she'd just be a little bit jealous."

"If she saw
you,
definitely."

He grinned. "You think I could turn Mrs. Lindman on, huh?"

"I think you could turn
any
girl on."

He leaned in, bringing their faces close. "Lucky for you, you're the only girl I'm wantin' to turn on,
chère."

She kissed him again and it set her skin to tingling the same as if she were sixteen and on her first date. "Speaking of the barely-anything-I'm-wearing," she said, "did you give Shondra her clothes?"

He nodded, a slow smile reshaping his stubbled face. "She loved 'em."

Her heart warmed. "Really? Did they fit?"

"She hadn't tried 'em on yet when I left, but she thought they would. And if not.
..
maybe you'll go with us? To trade 'em in?"