No Sunshine When She's Gone (23 page)

He brushed his stubbled jaw against her cheek, said, “Lean forward.”

He went to work on her shoulder. The man had magic thumbs. He kneaded deeply. The knot soon loosened. Her pain eased. His increasing pressure made her moan. He rubbed her arms. Her eyes closed. Her body floated, drifted. She felt as light as the bubbles.

How long had he massaged her? She’d lost track of time. She blinked back to reality. She found her breasts were now bare. He’d made her bra disappear. He palmed the delicate undersides while his thumbs grazed her nipples. He stroked them to points. Her chest tingled. She forgot to breathe.

“My shoulder’s fine now,” she somehow managed.

“Let me relax you fully.”

Tempting, but not sensible. Touching would change their whole dynamic. She bit down on her bottom lip; debated too long for his liking. He decided for her. He ran his hands down her sides to her waist. He made good use of his thumbs once again. Hooking them into the elastic on her panties, he eased them off. She was buoyant, her knees were bent, and the control tops soon cleared her feet.

He clasped her hip bones, shifted their positions. He lifted her off his lap, and set her by his side. Reaching around her, he tilted her hips forward. She gasped when a spiraling jet of water sprayed between her thighs. Her arms flayed.

He drew her arms against her sides when she sought to escape. He calmed her. He nuzzled her neck. His teeth grazed her shoulder. He bit the smooth flat of her back. He reset the panel that controlled the jets. “Go with the flow.” His voice was deep and sinful.

The water pulsed, streamed, surged. Sensation and pleasure. The warm whirl of the water seduced her belly. Her hips twisted. Mike’s hand settled on her pubic bone; he touched her intimately. Sweat and steam filmed her brow. Her breathing rasped. Her orgasm soon shook her. She collapsed against him.

For a timeless moment, she was carried outside of herself, loose and languid. Mike had reset the jets to a low pulse. The sound of the bubbles and the gentle slosh of water against the sides of the tub lulled her.

She rested her head against his shoulder, sighed. “Don’t let me drown.”

“I’ll be your water wings.”

They sat for what could’ve been five minutes or as long as an hour. Mike Burke didn’t care. He eased her back onto his lap and crossed his arms beneath her breasts. He was comfortable, and in no hurry to leave the tub.

Flushed and feminine, Carrie glanced at him over her shoulder. She reached back and burst the bubbles on his chin, then several more at the base of his throat. He brushed them off her eyebrows, traced her cheek with his fingertip.

He unplugged the tub. They both stood. As the water sank away, he reached for the shower massager and began washing the almond suds off her body. The water fanned as he swept her neck and breasts and belly. He rinsed her legs and inner thighs. Her lips parted and her eyes glazed when he switched the spray to pulse and the water began to thrust in forceful bursts. He aroused her once again, took her to the edge, but didn’t take her over.

Moving the spray away from her, he rinsed himself off, too. Wrapping her in a heated bath towel from a nearby rack, he drew her from the Jacuzzi tub and dried them both off. He liked touching her. He took his time, lingering over her breasts and at the juncture of her thighs.

He rested his forehead against hers. Cautious of her braces, he dropped a soft kiss on her lips and savored her taste: moist and sweet with a hint of almond. He nipped the fullness of her bottom lip; she flicked her tongue against his upper. He wanted to deepen their kiss but chose to do so in bed. Where they could stretch out and enjoy each other.

“Pratesi?” he asked.

“Your room or mine?” There was no hesitation on her part.

He was relieved. “I want you in my bed.”

He shifted then, stepped on his discarded T-shirt, and smiled. “We’ve both broken another house rule,” he said. “We’re leaving the bathroom a mess. There are clothes and towels everywhere.”

“We don’t always have to be neat. We’ll clean up in the morning.”

He could live with that. Naked, his body pulsing, he swept her off her feet and carried her to his room. She protested that she was too heavy, but he disagreed with her. He wanted her and, in his mind, she weighed less than air.

“Another rule bites the dust,” he told her. “We’re walking around naked.”

“I’m throwing away the list tomorrow.”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” he agreed.

Easing her onto the black silk sheets, he then sank down beside her. She was on her back, he was on his side. His bedroom curtains were drawn back, and his room was cast in moonlight. Slivers of silver played across his chest and hip and also tipped her nipples.

He stared down on her. “You’re good with us?” he asked. He wanted her to be perfectly sure.

She turned onto her side and faced him fully. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That you are, Carrie.” His release of breath was rough. Telling. He had expected her to change her mind. She seemed pleased he’d called her by her real name.

He leaned closer and their bodies touched.

They were now breast to chest.

Thigh to thigh.

Sex to sex.

He could’ve entered her with a slight shift of his hips. But he didn’t. She wasn’t ready for him. He hadn’t been with a woman since he’d arrived in Barefoot William. He preferred experienced women; those who knew the score.

He realized in that moment he’d been waiting all his life for sweet, sensitive Carrie. He’d wanted her since their first meeting at the Saunders’s barbeque. His feelings toward her had been immediate.

She’d scared the hell out of him. His sarcasm had been a defense mechanism. He didn’t date nice girls. He’d tried to push her away, yet she had stuck by him. He planned to stick by her now, for as long as she’d have him.

A deep need drew him back to her mouth. He ran his tongue over her braces, teasing and testing. He kissed her gently, yet deeply. She responded with care.

Dipping lower, he kissed her throat, the point of both shoulders. Raw pleasure pushed him down her body. His dark hair whispered across her pale naked breasts like the touch of a shadow. His cheek rested just below, as he placed openmouthed kisses across her belly, her hips, slowly reaching the center of her heat and all sensation.

Her hips came off the bed, and he cupped her ass. Tonight was all about Carrie. He teased and caressed her with a slow intimacy that threatened his sanity. Feeling the tightness in her body, the throbbing between her legs, he knew it was time to protect them both. He rose, went for a condom. He found the box in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. He grabbed several packets and returned to their bed.

“Let me put one on you,” Carrie said.

He consented. She took her sweet time. She liked touching him. And he liked being touched. She skimmed her fingers over his abs and thighs before reaching his sex. Her hands shook slightly as she opened the foil packet and fitted it over his erection.

Her touch alone had Mike fighting for control. The moment had arrived when the air between them was saturated with longing and a need for release. He wanted to take her swift and fierce. That would come later.

Lying back down, they faced each other again. Tongue to tongue, hip to hip, their bodies came together. The blend of cool silk sheets and hot-bodied woman nearly undid him. She curved her leg over his hip, and he strained as he took her slowly. She was tight. Incredibly tight. He didn’t want to hurt her. He gave her a moment to receive him. Once she had, time had no meaning and reality was lost as skin moved over skin.

She took what he was feeling and made it her own. They became one motion, all flow and thrust, driven by sharp breaths, arching backs and undulating hips.

They breathed in frantic rhythm, the pounding of her heart resounding in his soul. The rise of intense pleasure pushed them to release.

They both stiffened. Both moaned. Both shuddered.

Both took a long time to recover.

Afterward, he tucked her so tightly against his body, she became an imprint on his skin. He held her while she returned to reality. Her hair was wild and she was slow to focus. When she was finally able to look him in the eye, he saw her satisfaction and contentment.

He removed his condom, tossed it in the small trash can by his bed. “Stay the night with me?” he asked.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She snuggled so near, he felt her under his skin. In his heart. His dick was definitely fond of her, too.

He cared about her enough to share his past. It seemed only fair, since he planned to keep her in his life indefinitely. That was, if she chose to stay.

He rested his forehead against her own, breathed in her almond-scented hair. He stroked her shoulder, her back, then went on to say, “Rylan Cates was my best friend in college. We attended on baseball scholarships.” He hadn’t opened up to anyone about his past, and the words felt rusty.

She didn’t pry as he gathered his thoughts. Minutes passed before he was able to continue. He told her everything; he held nothing back. He spoke of the poker game and the bar fight. His injury. He recalled his pain and disappointment. His depression. How Aidan had offered him a job that changed his life.

His boss was as close as a brother. Aidan withstood Mike’s sarcasm. He’d never questioned Mike’s isolation, or the fact he lived at the construction trailer, where he suffered in silence.

“I felt whiplash,” he slowly confessed. “I thought I was going to do something, to be someone, only to lose my identity.”

“You saved Rylan’s life.”

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” he realized. With those words, all his frustration and anger left him. A sense of relief settled about his heart. His chest warmed. Through it all, Carrie squeezed him tightly, as if she were trying to infuse her strength into him. She was sympathetic. Her eyes misted in understanding. “Nothing happens by accident,” she whispered against his neck. “Life is a journey, our destinations aren’t guaranteed. It’s how we adjust, adapt, and accept change that makes us resilient. You were able to bounce back.”

Her support overwhelmed him. He no longer felt defeated. No longer felt alone. “There’s one more thing,” he added. He then mentioned his conversation with Risk Kincaid. “I’m headed to Richmond on Friday for my first interview.”

She eased back, met his gaze. She placed her palm on the center of his chest. She waited a moment before saying, “Your heart’s not racing. Aren’t you excited?”

“I’ve had my heart-pounding moments,” he admitted. “I’ve thought of nothing but the Rogues since Saturday. Then—”

“Thoughts of Aidan crept in.” She read him well. “You realized how much he’s done for you. You’re loyal and are having second thoughts.”

“Aidan has been supportive of the move,” he said. “He had his girls schedule my flight. He paid for my first class ticket. The ladies located a hotel near the stadium. They booked a suite. Risk will send a car for me.”

“What if you’re offered the assistant pitching-coach position?” she asked.

“I face a major decision.” One that would change his life once again. He didn’t want to think about anything but Carrie tonight. She was his priority. He eased her onto her back and covered her with his body. They made love a second time. His box of condoms got a workout.

The end of the week came far too soon. Carrie Waters faced the weekend alone. She didn’t mind. Up until Mike, her evenings had been spent before the TV with chips and dip or a bowl of peppermint ice cream. Tonight, she ate romaine salad. She would begin her exercise routine in the morning. The apartment complex had a gym, but she wasn’t ready to sweat in front of a lot of people. She planned to take a walk. The weather was beautiful.

Mike had inspired her transformation. The man was fit. She liked his muscles. He’d told her several times he found her beautiful. But this was personal. She’d feel better about herself if she dropped a few pounds.

The light rap on her front door surprised her. Mike was in Richmond; he’d left that morning. He’d promised to text her, and had been true to his word. He’d kept her updated on his flight, noting the delay in Atlanta. Once he’d landed, he’d sent her pictures of his hotel room. It was luxurious. She felt as if she were right there with him.

She set aside her dinner, and answered the door. Jillie Mac stood in the hallway. “Can I come in?” she asked, her voice sounding small. She wore a tie-dye
Under the Boardwalk
tank top, blue jeans, and beaded sandals. There were dark circles under her eyes and hollowness to her cheeks.

Carrie hadn’t seen her for several days. Jill had called the office each morning, and given Carrie her general whereabouts for the day. She’d wanted to introduce herself to the community. She’d walked the halls of the local government building, then gone store to store, passing out information on upcoming ticket prices.

Carrie took her by the arm and led her inside. Something was wrong with her friend. She hoped Jill would open up to her. “Join me for dinner?” she offered.

“I’m not very hungry.”

“There’s always room for lettuce.”

“Creamy French dressing?”

That was Mike’s favorite, too. “Recently purchased, in hopes you’d stop by.” She motioned Jill toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll fix you a plate.”

It didn’t take long for Carrie to put together the salad. She made it with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, chopped mushrooms, and a sprinkle of croutons. Jill liked a lot of salad dressing, and that’s what she got.

Carrie found her friend curled up at one end of the couch. This wasn’t the Jill that Carrie knew. She’d lost her spirit. She appeared tired and very sad.

Carrie set the salad on the coffee table. She went back to the kitchen for a glass of plum iced tea, a napkin, and silverware. She returned, and noticed Jill hadn’t moved; hadn’t started eating.

Things were going well at the Rogues Shop, so she figured Jill was having man problems. Aidan Cates came to mind. Carrie was aware they had dated. Jill hadn’t spoken of him all week. That wasn’t a good sign.