No Breaking My Heart (22 page)

“I'm ready, whenever you are,” Eden called to them. “Do what feels natural. Pretend I'm not even here.” She took several steps back, circling them, standing on tiptoe, and then kneeling on the sand. She captured each expression from every angle.

They exchanged their vows on the sun's descent. There was a richness to the night as it fell in shades of gold. The Gulf rippled copper, as if cast with pennies. The sand shimmered medallion bronze. The horizon was gilded. A glowing backdrop for their wedding.

“Kiss her,” Wilson soon told Ayre.

Free-spirited and spontaneous, Ayre picked up his bride, and carried her into the ocean. They kissed amid the toppling waves and waning twilight. Their laughter followed them back to shore.

“We're headed to the movies,” Zoey said.

Marriage and a movie. Casual. Uncomplicated. Landon liked their lifestyle.

“Stop by my shop tomorrow,” said Eden. “I should have proofs available by noon.”

The couple waved as they ran across the sand. Wilson trailed them more slowly. Zoey and Ayre went right once they reached the boardwalk. Wilson left. He ducked into Molly's Diner.

Eden stood at the waterline. Land walked to her. She smiled, happy in the aftermath of the wedding. He felt light-hearted, too. On impulse, he bent and kissed her on the forehead. As spontaneous as he, she kissed his cheek. Close to his mouth.

“What now?” he asked. “I promised you a meal.”

“I like a man who keeps his word.”

He hadn't made a reservation. However his status as a Rogue would get him a table anywhere in town. “Steak, seafood?” Her choice. He wasn't particular.

She made his life easy. “Let's take a walk, see where it leads.”

He was willing. They held hands as they left the sand. He'd initiated the contact. She hadn't pulled away. Soft skin. Short nails. Solid grasp. She led him with hungry purpose.

Her idea of dinner was creative eating down the boardwalk. No fancy, five-star dining. No candlelight. No muted music. No after-dinner liqueurs. Instead, she enjoyed junk food. Lady had a sweet tooth. Caramel apples. A box of homemade fudge. Bags of penny candy.

She turned healthy at Vigor, a wellness spa around the corner from the boardwalk. She sipped an orange-banana smoothie. He ordered an organic carrot-apple juice.

He never took his eyes off her. She'd captured his attention without even trying. Her life was fun. Without drama. She was her own person. A woman of switch-ups and surprises. Honest. Cute, quirky, without pretense. Free. She embraced the night, hugging herself, and then him. He liked her spontaneity.

She also people-watched with a prescient eye. She recognized love between couples that had yet to be discovered, yet to be spoken. She was a romantic after his own heart.

The boardwalk was hosting the Spring Music Festival. Musicians set the night to dancing. Every kind of music from contemporary to reggae was performed. People stopped to listen. Some clapped, some danced, and the majority of tourists tossed a few dollars in the instrument cases.

Carefree and comfortable in her own skin, Eden danced down the boardwalk. Her moves were smooth, creative. Rhythmic. An unoccupied, upright piano was chained to the blue metallic railing. A block-lettered sign was propped above the keyboard:
FREE PLAY. EXPRESS YOURSELF
. She patted the bench, and he accompanied her. They pounded out a basic duet of “Chopsticks.” A little off-key. Applause came with the last note.

Moments later, she took part in theater freeze frame, a boardwalk novelty performed by a local drama group. Still as stone, she became human art, alongside a pirate. People slowed and stared. She didn't blink, barely breathed for a considerable time. Impressive.

Landon had his own way of bringing her back to life. He leaned in and kissed her. Soundly. She lowered her eyelashes, and smiled against his mouth. He eased back, grinned, too.

“You've walked me home,” she said. They'd nearly reached the end of the boardwalk. Her shop was two doors down.

It was only ten o'clock. He was having a great time and hated to see the night end. The air was warm. A half-moon climbed to meet the stars. He nodded toward a wooden bench. “Sit and share the moonlight?”

Silence from her, which didn't bode well for him. Maybe she was ready to call it a night. Perhaps she wasn't as into him as he was into her. That would be unfortunate. Her letting him down. Then walking away.

She bit her bottom lip, thoughtful. “Or . . .” She weighed her words. “We could make out on my couch in the back room?”

He hadn't seen that coming. “I didn't know you had a back room.” Totally lame. He tried again, “Kissing on a sofa, high-school style?”

“It's a foldout.”

A bed. “You sleep here?”

“On nights I work late.” She took a step toward him. Raised an eyebrow. “So . . .”

Dry humps and kissathons. Why the hell not? “Sixteen and horny.”

She licked her lips. “Me, too.”

He came up behind her as she unlocked the door, entered. The outside lights filtered through the main window, twinkling on the floor. She eyed him over her shoulder. “Feel free to drop quarters to find your way out, like you did on the path to the wedding chapel.”

Heat crept up his neck. “You noticed?”

“I'm two dollars richer.”

He followed her past the faceless cutouts to a narrow rear door hidden behind a tall metal cabinet. A flick of a switch, and a panel of lights ran the full length of the drop-ceiling. Her back room was more efficiency apartment than storage space. Small and compact and outfitted with a sink, refrigerator, and bathroom. A retro circular table and two chairs sat in the center. Customer portraits framed the walls.

She placed her camera safely on the kitchen counter. With an adjustment of the dimmer switch, the room softened. Taking his hand, she led him to the overstuffed sofa. Three wide cushions. Dark fabric. Comfortably folded.

She cut him a look from beneath her eyelashes. Licked her lips suggestively. Actually giggled. “My parents are playing cards at the neighbors. They won't be home for an hour. We can fool around, but no going all the way.”

Lady had imagination. She also had rules. No sex tonight, which was fine by him. Foreplay had a dual edge. He had ways of winding her so tight, she'd never uncoil. She wouldn't be satisfied by anyone's hands but his own.

They came together. He sat, and she straddled his lap. A slow slide onto his thighs. A spreading of her legs. He curved his hands over her knees. Splayed his fingers. She was slender; his hands big. His fingertips wandered up her leggings. She covered his hands before he could tuck them beneath her bottom. She held him off. He let her.

As she looked into his eyes, her sexy side emerged. She tossed her hair, and her breasts bounced. Tilting her head, she asked, “Why'd you ask me out, Landon?”

He tugged one white-blond curl. Drawing her face closer to him, he played along. “I'm into girls with electric hair.”

“I'm into popular boys. Especially jocks.”

“I play baseball.”

She flared her nostrils. “A turn-on.”

“Are you turned on now?”

“I've been hot since you asked me out.”

“That was three days ago.”

“I know.”

Land smiled to himself. She was good at their high school game. He felt a jolt in his belly. A stirring in his groin. Her sensual boldness aroused him.

She leaned in, finger-brushed his hair off his face. Then traced his eyebrows. Grazed his cheekbones. The blade of his nose. The symmetry of his jawline. Slow and intimate. Her gaze settled on his mouth. Eyes, deep blue and dilated. “You are fine,” she admired, before nipping his bottom lip. Hard enough to twist his hips. Draw his moan.

Expectant, she waited for his kiss. With parted lips. A peek of her tongue. Instead of taking her mouth, he kissed her brow. The arch of her cheek. Nuzzling close, he licked the soft spot below her ear. Then blew softly. Goose bumps rose, visible at the vee of her button-down. He started to unbutton her top, but she stopped him. “Clothes stay on.” Her rule, not his.

He could play dressed. It was very sexy. He also went with no touching. For the moment. He took her lips, only to pull back. Again and again. He kept his kisses light as breath. He savored her. Slow and lingering. Their closed-mouth kisses lasted forever, deepening their intimacy. Creating an emotional closeness.

“I heard you were a good kisser,” she sighed against his mouth. “The girls were right.”

“What girls?” He was curious.

“From my gym class. Susie, Linda, Danielle, Jody, Mary, Tammi.”

He played along. “Ah . . . those girls.”

“You've kissed many. Felt up a few. Gone all the way with the homecoming queen.”

Gossip built his reputation. “I'm with you now.”

“Are you liking me?”

Too damn much.
“We're working it.”

He wanted her. Bad. He went on to prove it. This time with touch and tongue. He French kissed her, long and deep. Mating with her mouth, mimicking sex. Until they were both breathing heavy. He wanted her hot. All worked up. When she gasped, needed a breather, he kissed her even more soundly.

She fanned her hands over his shoulders, curled her fingers into corded muscle. Her body had gone liquid. She clung to him as he grazed her chin, her cheek, with his teeth. Along with the pulse point at the base of her throat.

Her breath hitched, and her oversized shirt fluttered at her waist, revealing her belly. Her skin was as pale as the lighting. He felt her up; palmed her breasts. Her nipples poked the cotton cups of her bra. He wanted to flick the front clasp, but held back. Too much, too soon. He went on to trace her from cleavage to navel, then hand-spanned high on her legs. He stroked the crease between her thighs and torso, stopping short of her sweet spot.

She gave an involuntary shiver when he fingered the waistband on her leggings. Then strayed beneath the elastic. The rough pads of his fingers tipped her pubic bone. He realized that Eden shaved—everywhere. Her thigh muscles tightened, clenching his hips. An uncensored coming undone. He pulled out his hand. Cupped her butt.

Her heart pounded and anticipation took hold. Her own hands found their way beneath his blue polo. She saw his Rogues tattoo inside his left hip. The image of a sword with
Invincible
along the blade. She traced the edge. “A phallic symbol?” she asked.

“No metaphor needed.” He sported seven inches.

“Then what?”

“Myths and legends,” he managed. “I read
The Sword in the Stone
by T. H. White numerous times as a kid. Excalibur proved Arthur's lineage.”

“I can picture you as a Knight of the Round Table. I have a cardboard cutout of Lancelot.”

“I'd rather be king.”

“Your Majesty.”

She focused again on his body, as if he were royalty. Running her nails up his sides, she lightly scratched down his middle. He was six-pack cut. Her fingers followed his happy trail, dipping a fraction of an inch beneath the waistband of his khakis. Only to exit, and rub along his zipper. She squeezed his length. Wound him tight. He almost lost it.

The calculated shift of her hips made his palms sweat. His hands fist. His hips jerked. The muscles in his thighs contracted. She teased him without mercy. The slightest scoot forward, and she was centered over him. She must feel his every flex. His every inch of hardness. Had they been naked, he would've entered her.

The air was as heavy as their breathing. Their scents mingled. He was hard, and she was inaccessible. There'd be no skin-on-skin. Foreplay was killing him. He set his back teeth; a muscle jumped along his jawline. He couldn't collect himself. He was too far gone.

Their plan to make out on the couch like high schoolers was deceiving. Flawed. Teenage hormones didn't come close to adult libido. He'd long passed sixteen. Temptation rubbed him. Raw and urgent. Sex pressured him now. He'd never wanted a woman as much as he desired Eden Cates. His patience was stretched to the max. He needed to be inside her. To feel her wetness. To bring them to orgasm.

There was only one way out. He took it. He kissed her one last time, with passion and possession. A sinful tangle of tongues. Then breaking apart, he craned his neck and pretended to listen. “I heard a car door slam.” His voice was deep, rough, forced.

“Y-you did?” she stammered.

“Your parents are home.”

“T-they are?” Her face was flushed. Her lips were swollen. Another button on her blouse had come undone. The elastic of her waistband had rolled beneath her navel. Her femininity was outlined by the thin fabric.

He lifted her from his lap in one fluid motion. Set her beside him. He rose, stood with his arms at his sides. His heart hammered. His chest heaved. He felt as unsteady as she looked.

Turning aside, he adjusted himself. His dick twitched, felt betrayed. No action tonight. Another time, Land promised. He signed off with, “See you at school tomorrow.”

“In algebra.”

He made it through her shop and out the front door.

He headed north on the boardwalk.

Stiff-man walking.

* * *

“How'd school go today?”

It was seven p.m., and Eden could barely hear Landon over all the barking. She sat on a long wooden bench in the fenced play yard at the no-kill animal shelter. She'd come to choose her four-footed companion for the Dog Jog, scheduled for Sunday. It was an event not to be missed. Worthwhile, memorable, tail-wagging fun.

She cut him a look. Appreciated the man. He wore a Barefoot William T-shirt tucked into worn jeans. He pulled off casual with style. Was male gorgeous. She was dressed similarly, in a pale blue tee with her store logo and cuffed jeans. “You cut algebra,” she returned.