Stripping It Down (2 page)

She kept her fists clenched firmly at her sides but couldn't stop herself from parting her lips, just a little, for one tiny bit of a taste. He pressed his advantage, plunging his tongue inside, licking and sucking until she had no choice but to fist her hands in his hair and wrap her legs around his hips.

"God, I've been dying to touch you," he groaned into her mouth. "From the second I saw you, acting so cool. Burning so hot underneath."

As though to prove himself right, he shoved his hand between her thighs and pulled aside the now-drenched strip of lace covering her mound. He uttered a low grumble of satisfaction as his fingers met smooth flesh, already slippery wet from just one kiss.

Some sane, rational corner of her brain sent out frantic signals, warning her to stop this before it went too far – as though it hadn't already.

Which were promptly drowned out as he nosed aside the gathered neckline of her top and sucked one hard, rosy nipple deep into his mouth.

She tossed her head back and moaned as a thick, blunt finger stroked against her clit. She clenched her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, wanting to tear it off but not having the presence of mind to do so. Spreading her legs wide to give him better access, she rocked her pelvis against his hand, shuddering when he sank two fingers in to the last knuckle.

"Mmm," she moaned as he twisted his fingers inside her, his thumb jumping into the mix to give her clit some much-needed attention. One, two strokes against the slippery bud and she was gone, the walls of her sex clamping down in an orgasm so intense her screams echoed off the stone-lined ceiling.

He kissed her softly, quieting her, pressing his palm against her until the last tremors of her climax faded away.

Like a slap in the face, Kit suddenly became aware of her position. Legs sprawled wide on top of a minifridge, one boob hanging out of her halter, and Jake Donovan's hand once again in her pants.

Hopping off the fridge before he could catch her, she hitched her top back over her shoulder and smoothed her skirt back down her hips. She glanced at her watch. "Wow. You made me come inside of five minutes. You have improved."

He grinned and made a move to grab her. "I could make you come with both hands tied behind my back."

She had to get the hell out of that cellar before she begged for a live demonstration. "You've proven your point well enough." She haphazardly grabbed a few bottles of wine from the shelves. Arms full, she flashed him what she hoped passed for a sly, sophisticated smile and said, "Thanks. I needed that." She half ran back up the stairs, ignoring his shout of protest. See how you like being left high and dry, cowboy.

Chapter 2

Thanks, I needed that. Jake couldn't help but grin at Kit's parting words.

As cool and casual as if he'd served her a drink. But despite her nonchalance, she hadn't been able to disguise the postorgasmic flush that crept all the way up her plunging neckline to her cheeks or the way her hands had trembled as they reached out to grab the bottles of wine.

She'd studiously ignored him as everyone loaded up into a van and headed into town for the evening's festivities, and she was careful to seat herself so she had a window on one side and a bridesmaid on the other, ruining his chances of copping a feel in the dark taxi.

Now he leaned against the bar of the crowded dance club, watching Kit bump and grind with Sabrina as Gwen Stefani sang about feeling hellagood. Dark hair rippling around her shoulders, hips swirling and thrusting to the beat, Kit was sex personified.

Every male eye in the club was drawn to her like bees to honey.

And damned if she didn't know it.

The little tease.

She licked her lips in an exaggerated gesture and glanced in his direction, pinning him with her cool, mocking gaze for a split second before lowering her lids in a look of mock ecstasy.

His cock thickened against the confines of his pants as he remembered what she really looked like when she came. How she strained against his hand, her tight, slick cunt gripping his fingers as she tossed her head back, plush mouth opening around her throaty cry.

She'd left him aching in the wine cellar, practically light-headed as every drop of blood in his body seemed to throb insistently in his cock, demanding satisfaction. He'd taken a quick, freezing shower before the group headed out to the nightclub, promising his dick imminent satisfaction even as it wilted to semi-hard.

Watching her, he took a pull from his bottle of Pacifico, imagining as he lifted his hand to his face that he could still smell her rich, spicy scent on his fingers. The mere memory was enough to bring his erection back to full attention. Dammit, at thirty-four he was supposed to have better control over himself than this.

But his reaction to Kit was no more manageable than it had been twelve years ago. From the moment he'd walked into the villa and seen her out by the pool, every nerve ending had been on high alert. Normally, he wasn't a big believer in fate or divine intervention. But seeing her silky curves barely restrained by a tiny black bikini, laid out before

him like a sensual buffet, he'd sworn he felt the hand of God.

He finally had a chance to make up for the way he'd so badly bungled things when he'd been an idiot twenty-two-year-old, raging with hormones and completely lacking in good sense or self-control.

He and his girlfriend – he could barely remember her face now – had fought, and when he'd found Kit, home by herself for the night, he'd stupidly accepted her invitation to hang out and watch TV. Two years earlier Kit had morphed from an awkward, skinny teenager to long-legged sexpot seemingly overnight, and he'd been struggling to keep his hands

off her ever since. But as his best friend Charlie's little sister, Kit had been strictly off limits.

But Kit had purposely tempted him, sitting oh-so casually close, close enough that her smooth, tan thighs, left bare by ridiculously short denim cutoffs, brushed against his legs as she shifted on the couch.

Next, her white button-down shirt had come off in deference to the heat, even though the air conditioning had been set high enough to make her nipples poke out like little bullets against the thin fabric of her tanktop.

What had really done him in, though, were her eyes. Grayish blue, thickly lashed, bright against her summer-tanned skin. Arresting, knowing, seemingly full of sensual awareness that no seventeen-year-old girl could have.

He'd wanted nothing more than to push her down on the couch and give her exactly what she was asking for, begging for. But she'd been off limits, untouchable, and he'd fought the impulse with every sinew in his ragingly horny body.

He would have succeeded, if she hadn't pinned him with that look.

The same look she'd given him five seconds ago. A knowing, almost mocking look that said she knew exactly what he wanted and dared him to take it. He'd love to blame what happened next on being drunk. But contrary to Kit's story, he hadn't had enough to be even mildly buzzed, much less the sloppy inebriate she'd described. He'd fallen victim to lust, pure and simple, barely able to get inside her before he exploded with the force of a soda bottle that had gone through a spin cycle.

It was still one of the most sexually humiliating episodes of his life. By that time, he'd had plenty of experience, thought he'd known how to control himself and hold out until the girl he was with was satisfied.

Only to have whatever expertise he possessed fly out the door when he finally succumbed to the temptation of Kit.

No question he'd blown it – in more ways than one. On that they vehemently agreed. She hadn't exaggerated his performance or lack thereof. Afterward, she'd transformed from sexy, knowing woman into an innocent young girl who'd just experienced an awkward, unskilled, and uncomfortable introduction to sexual intercourse. Guilt had curdled in his stomach as she ran from the room, tears streaming down her face.

Idiot that he was, he'd convinced himself that she would never want to hear from him again. By the time he'd extricated his head from his ass and realized that she probably would have appreciated at least a phone call, months had passed, and when he saw her again over Christmas break she was dating some little tattooed punk who played guitar and whined about corporate control of America.

The music changed to Prince's "Cream," and Kit moved behind Sabrina, sliding her hand across the other woman's abdomen as they swung their hips in tandem. Some jackass in a tank top tried to move up behind Kit and get in on the action. The women smoothly danced away, dashing the poor slob's hope of ending up as the creamy center of a Kit & Sabrina sandwich.

"Maybe they'll start making out soon." Dave, the groom's brother, gestured toward the women with an exaggerated leer.

Jake drained his beer, placing the bottle on the bar behind him. "Don't count on it." The only person Kit would be making out with tonight was him.

***

"We should start kissing. That'll really make their night," Sabrina said over her shoulder as Kit let her hands hover dangerously over Sabrina's breasts.

Kit laughed and tossed her head back. Guys were so easy. Give them a whiff of girl-on-girl action and they were convinced you were going to reenact the double-ended dildo scene from Where the Boys Aren't, Volume 6.

All the boys were watching now, waiting to see how far they would take it, hoping with every inch of their hard little dicks that Kit would actually slide her hand into Sabrina's top, that Sabrina would turn around and slip Kit some tongue.

Though she hated to admit it, Kit only cared about holding the attention of one pair of gleaming green eyes. Keeping her lids lowered, she snuck another glance at the bar, her rhythm faltering when she found the space formerly occupied by Jake's broad shoulders now filled by two nearly identical bleached blondes.

Suddenly a large, proprietary hand slid around her hip to flatten across her stomach. She didn't even have to turn around to know it was Jake. Even in the crowded dance club, she could pick up his scent, soapy clean with a hint of his own special musk. Without a word he pulled her back against him. The rigid length of his erection grinding rhythmically against her ass let her know her dance floor antics had been effective.

What she hadn't counted on was her own swift response. Sure, he'd gotten the best of her in the wine cellar, but she'd written it off as a result of not having had sex since her last "friend with benefits" had done the unthinkable and actually wanted an exclusive relationship. She'd had to cut all ties and hadn't found a suitable replacement in the last six months.

Tonight, she'd only meant to tease and torment Jake, give him a taste of what he wanted but couldn't have. Now she wasn't so sure she'd be able to stick with that game plan. The memory of her gut-wrenching orgasm pulsed through her, her nerve endings dancing along her skin with no more than his hand caressing her stomach and his cock grinding against her rear. His broad palm slid up until his long fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts, barely covered by the thin silk of her top.

She was vaguely aware of Sabrina raising a knowing eyebrow as she moved over to dance with one of the other groomsmen. Without thinking she raised one arm, hooking it around his neck as she pressed back against the hard wall of his chest. Hot breath caressed her neck before his teeth latched gently on her earlobe. The throbbing beat of the music echoed between her legs, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold him off, not when he was so good at noticing and exploiting her weakness.

"Let's go," he whispered gruffly, taking her hand and tugging her toward the edge of the floor.

She wasn't that easy. "What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?" she replied, breaking his hold and shimmying away.

A mocking smile curved his full, sensuous mouth. "Wasn't that what your little show was all about? Driving me crazy until I take you home and prove to you exactly how good it could be between us?" To emphasize

his point, he shoved his thigh between hers until the firm muscles pressed deliciously against her already-wet sex. "What happened earlier was just a taste, Kit. Don't lie and tell me you don't want the whole feast."

She moaned as his mouth pressed hot and wet against her throat, wishing she had it in her to be a vindictive tease and leave him unsatisfied, aching for her body.

But her body wouldn't let her play games, and she was too smart to pass up an opportunity for what she instinctively knew would be the best sex of her life. Jake was right. She wanted him. Wanted to feel his hands and mouth all over her bare skin. Wanted to see if his cock was as long and thick and hard as she remembered. Wanted to see if he'd finally learned how to use it.

And why not? She was a practical, modern woman who believed in casual sex as long as her pleasure was assured and no strings were attached. What could be more string free than a hot vacation fling with a guy who lived on the opposite side of the country? And this time she'd have the satisfaction of leaving him without so much as a good-bye.

Decision made, she grabbed his hand and led him toward the door. "Let's hope you haven't oversold yourself, cowboy."

"Baby, I'm gonna give you the ride of your life."

Outside, downtown Cabo San Lucas rang with the sounds of traffic and boisterous tourists. Jake hustled her into a taxi van's back row, and in rapid Spanish he gave the driver the villa's address and negotiated a rate.

Hidden by several rows of seats, Kit had no modesty when he pulled her into his arms, capturing her mouth in a rough, lusty kiss. Opening wide, she sucked him hard, sliding her tongue against his, exploring the hot, moist recesses of his mouth. Her breath tightened in quick pants as he tugged her blouse aside and settled a hand over her bare breast, kneading, plumping the soft flesh before grazing his thumb over the rock hard tip.

Muffled sounds of pleasure stuck in her throat. She couldn't ever remember being so aroused, dying to feel his naked skin against her own, wanting to absorb every hard inch of him inside her. She unbuttoned his shirt with shaky hands, exploring the rippling muscles of his chest and abs. He was leaner now than he'd been at twenty-two, not as bulked up as he'd been when he played football for UCLA. The sprinkling of dark hair had grown thicker as well, teasing and tickling her fingers, reminding her that the muscles that shifted and bulged under her hands belonged to a man, not a boy.