Authors: Donna Kauffman
Sweet Stuff (25 page)
She lifted her head to look at him, whereupon he dropped his mouth to one freckle, then another and another, all while keeping his gaze intermittently focused on hers.
“Hmm,” he said. “I’ve a quandary.”
“That’s a good word,” she said, moving restlessly beneath him. “Quandary,” she repeated, drawing it out, rolling her hips in a sinuous motion as she did so. “Who knew vocabulary could be so hot?”
That got a chuckle out of him.
“What is your quandary, sir?” She rolled her hips again.
“Well, it seems I’ve gotten to all the freckles in my immediate research area. I’m torn now between exploring northward”—he nuzzled her shirt up another few inches, until the plump undersides of her breasts were exposed—“or taking a more leisurely southern route.”
She let out a long, satisfied groan when he nudged the wide elastic band of her boxers down below her bellybutton, then further down, until they clung to the faint crests of her hipbones. “I hear the south is lovely this time of year,” she croaked out as he kissed and teased his way lower ... then higher, then back lower again.
“There’s another skill that writing and researching has helped me to hone.”
“Hone,” she repeated, drawing the word out and making it sound remarkably earthy.
He was already rigidly hard almost to the point of pain, but that got another surge and twitch out of him, making him swallow his own groan. She had absolutely no idea how utterly carnal she was. Goddess in her own right.
“Go on,” she urged.
It took him a moment to recall the thread ... he was sidetracked by how decadent it was, seeing her sprawled half beneath him, a hint of those voluptuous breasts exposed, threatening to spill out of that thin, worn cotton. And that wide flat band of flannel-covered elastic, caressing the softly rounded swell of her stomach, exposing the creamy freckled sweetness to his hands and mouth. Teasing him, so close to revealing the truth of her blond hair, downy and waiting for his tongue to toy, part, and plunder.
She was all but vibrating beneath him, a coiled spring, as he continued to linger around her navel, dipping his tongue in, then drawing it out, then darting it in again, until her hips moved in unison and her soft moans became urging growls.
“Multitasking,” he murmured against the sweet, freshly exposed skin below that elastic band, which he pulled down farther. . . and farther still, taking advantage of the way her hips pumped up hard in shock when his fingers slid under her tee and closed over her swollen nipple. He gently rolled and caressed it while tugging her flannel shorts down with his free hand, so she could kick them loose.
“Move up,” he urged her, shifting them so they lay diagonally across the wide bed. He kicked off his worn docksiders and shucked his shorts down and off, as she wrestled off her tee. “You’re glorious, Riley,” he said, easing his body between her legs. He had to keep his long legs bent slightly, but he could prop his toes against the stateroom wall, which gave him leverage. “Scoot back, just a—yes, right there.” He leaned down and kissed the sweet, tender skin of her inner thigh. “Hold on,” he said, then slid his tongue deep into her.
Her surprise shout of pleasure ended on a long, shuddering groan, as he began to toy and tease, stroke, and caress. He stopped long enough to slide two fingers into his mouth, then returned to his slow, languorous exploration. He slid his hand back up her body, reaching her nipples with his slick fingers, toying, flicking, and rolling them with a bit less gentleness as her hips started to buck in earnest.
“Quinn,” she panted.
“Right here,” he murmured against her slick, sweet flesh.
She shuddered hard as she went over, her body jerking beneath his questing and plunging tongue, as he pushed her longer, higher, harder.
“Can’t, can’t,” she panted.
“Can,” he said gruffly, focusing on the throbbing nerve center with the gentlest of swipes with the very tip of his tongue ... while sliding a finger, slowly, deeply, inside her.
She cried out loudly, and thrashed beneath him.
Then she was grabbing his hair, leaning up to claw at his shoulders, her body still bucking and quaking with the aftershocks of her release. “Here,” she commanded, pulling him up and over her body. “Now.”
“Now?” he asked, poised over her.
Her eyes were so dark, the pupils had all but swallowed the sweet dark chocolate of her eyes. “Now,” she growled almost angrily.
He grinned, even as he throbbed almost in pain he was so hard. “I like a woman who knows what she wants. Let me grab—”
“No,” she said, which made him lift a brow. “I’m—I’m safe. Pill. We don’t need, I mean ... unless you want—”
“I only want one thing.” He gripped her hips and dragged them up and off the bed so he could drive himself between them, sheathing all of himself inside every last sweet, hot, wet inch of her in one smooth, steady plunge.
She cried out, bucked hard against him again, and he realized she was climaxing. Again. Thinking of her he thrust again, and again, and she almost sobbed as she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders, then his buttocks, as she urged—no, demanded—that he keep on. Faster. Deeper. Harder.
Her command was absolutely his wish. He’d have gone longer, for as long as she wanted him to, but her tight muscles throbbing around him ripped him to release before he even knew it was going to happen. He’d been on the brink since he’d slid his tongue inside her. Or, more honestly, since she’d stuck her head out the sliding glass door, all sleepy and flushed in those ridiculous flannel shorts.
Panting heavily and trying to find his breath, he moved to roll away, so he could take his weight from her, only to have her hook her ankles around the backs of his calves and pull his head down to hers.
“I’m heavy,” he said, his voice sounding like that of a drugged man.
“Stay,” was all she said. Then she pulled his head down the rest of the way and kissed him.
They’d coupled more like wild beasts than lovers. There hadn’t been anything intimate about it. He knew that because the kiss ... her kiss ... the one she was tenderly giving him, so sweetly exploring, and soft, as if she’d never kissed him before, as if they hadn’t just mated like wild jackals—was truly intimate. Not the way she’d responded to his slightest touch, not her multiple orgasms which had, in fact, made him truly feel somewhat godlike. No. It was this genuine and pure kiss, freely and fully given, all vulnerabilities laid bare.
He knew enough about her, understood enough about what scared her, to know that this was the true gift of herself. It was that, more than anything that had come before, that completely undid him.
He slid from her then, and eased his weight off her, pulling her with him when she would have ended the kiss to protest the shift in position. He kept her with him, tucked her against him, and continued to glory in the most amazing gift he’d ever received.
As he pulled her closer, sheltered her with his body, as if protecting her was and would always be his natural, default directive, he knew he’d do everything in his power to always be worthy of that one, single kiss.
Chapter 18
“
W
hat time is it?” Riley murmured, coming awake slowly, realizing as she became aware of being wrapped up against Quinn’s big, hard body, that they must have dozed off—while still kissing, if she recalled it properly. She smiled against the warmth of his skin as it all filtered back.
W
hat time is it?” Riley murmured, coming awake slowly, realizing as she became aware of being wrapped up against Quinn’s big, hard body, that they must have dozed off—while still kissing, if she recalled it properly. She smiled against the warmth of his skin as it all filtered back.
She rolled her head just enough to see the bolted wall clock. Just after seven. Good, she had a little more time before embracing the real world.
“Is someone else on the boat?” Quinn’s deep voice was even sexier when rough with sleep and a little honest fatigue. “I hear footsteps.”
“That’s just Brutus.”
Quinn’s eyes cracked open. “Brutus is onboard? How did I miss that?”
She laughed. “Where did you think he was? Out in the backyard, treading water?” She started to roll over and sit up, but a very strong arm hooked her right back up against an equally strong body. Since that was exactly where she wanted to be, she let him. “He sleeps up on the front of the boat, and nothing wakes him until the sun comes up.”
“What if it’s raining?”
“He goes under the awnings.”
“Never in here?”
Riley grinned. “Let’s just say he goes wherever he’s most comfortable. That storm we had last week? I found him wedged between the barbeque and the life preserver bins. I try to get him to stay in here, but I think he just likes being outside. If it’s really cold, he stretches out in the main cabin in front of the little space heater. Mostly I don’t mind him not being underfoot.”
“I can imagine.” Quinn grinned and rolled his head so he could press a kiss against her hair. “I liked you being under me.” He toyed with the long tangle of curls that spread across his chest, sending delicious little tingling sensations skittering all over her skin. She really thought this was perhaps the best use of an early morning she’d ever had.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “That I didn’t mind so much.”
There was another thud from somewhere on board.
“He’s jumping down from the front of the deck to the side rails.”
“Sounds like he’s really gotten accustomed to boat living.” Quinn drew his fingertips through her curls, slowly untangling them. “I guess you both have. How long did that take? Do you take it out much? I’ve never been on one of these—how does it maneuver in open water with the waves and all?”
She laughed. “Curious monkey and silly wabbit. I have no idea how to even turn the thing on, much less steer it anywhere. You don’t honestly think Chuck and Greg would want me to take their big expensive toy out for a spin, do you? I mean, they have been around me for more than five minutes. It’s a testament to their inexplicable affection for me that they agreed to let me even step onboard.”
“How did you get it up here from Jekyll then?”
“The same way any self-respecting klutz would. I paid Chuck’s uncle to do it.”
Quinn chuckled at that. “Well, given my extensive, if youthful, life aboard ships of various sizes and modes, what do you think the chances are your very dear friends would let me take us out for a spin?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to, but . ..”
“But what? Do you get seasick?”
“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t on the boat ride here, anyway.”
“Is that the only time you’ve ever been on a boat?”
“Yes, why?”
He grinned. “It’s funny to think someone who’s never been in or around boats, lives on one.”
“I know. I feel the same. And yet, here I am. I have to admit, I have come to really like it.”
“So, why don’t we take her out for a spin?”
“Because I finagled a space on the docks here by promising I wouldn’t stay long. No one has said anything, but I’m afraid if I take it out they won’t let me back.”
“Don’t you have a contract or something?”
She shook her head. “Just month to month. I dump an envelope in the slot at Biggers’ and they leave me to my own devices.”
He surprised her by sliding her body over and more fully on top of his much bigger body, making her feel lithe, and petite and anything other than how she’d always felt before. “Well, maybe I could put David on that for you. He’s very good at making things happen.”
“Why?” she asked. “I mean, thank you. I would feel better if I had something in writing.”
“You’re welcome. It’s purely selfish. I’d like a sunset cruise around the sound with you. That’s where my grandfather and I sailed in the evenings after work. I’d like to share something of that with you.”
She softened, and her heart teetered dangerously. This was the intimacy she wanted, the kind of opening up and sharing. “That sounds very lovely. If David can work his magic, I accept the invitation.”
“Good.” He looked inordinately pleased.
Riley braced herself, mentally anyway, for the fears to kick in. Making Quinn happy—she wanted to do that, and much more—but the fact that she could implied she mattered to him. That should scare her.
It did ... but it didn’t make her want to hide. She considered it forward progress made, and left it at that. “Fair warning, though. I don’t know if I’ll make any better a first mate than I do a captain.”
He slid his hands down and cupped her bottom, then lightly pinched the soft flesh. “You’re doing really well on the mating scale so far.”
“Ha, ha,” she said, but felt the warmth of pleasure at his comment fill her cheeks. She leaned down and kissed him. “So are you, Captain.” She moved to roll her weight off him, but he wrapped his arms around her and kept her there.
“Few more minutes. You don’t have to go yet, do you?”
She shook her head. And probably would have stayed, even if she knew she’d be late. Just a few more minutes sounded like heaven.
“I have one other request.”
She slid her hands down his sides and pinched the side of his butt. “Getting awful cheeky,” she said, enjoying the surprised snort of laughter that got from him. “What is the request?”
“Will you mind if I stay here to work while you’re at the bungalow? Tell me honestly, because I can find another place—”
“No. I kind of like the idea of you being here. Uh, could I maybe ask a favor in return? Would you mind if I left Brutus with you? Say no if you’d rather not. I know you need to concentrate. But he’s really no trouble. Just walk him down to the end of the pier to the grassy area every once in a while. He’ll let you know.”
As if on cue, there was a jarring thud overhead, then a big, panting dog face appeared in the tiny window in the wall above their heads.
“Would that constitute letting me know? And how the hell did he get up on the fly deck?”
“There’s a ramp. Sort of.”
“A sort of ramp. I probably don’t want to know.”
“I think he likes the windier breeze up there. Or maybe he just likes playing king of the world.” Riley grinned. “But right now I need to get the king out for his royal stroll. It’ll just take a minute. And I ... need to shower, before I go. I’d ask you to share, but it’s tiny.”
“Asking was nice.” He tugged her down for one last fast, hard, and very hot kiss before letting her crawl off him and off the bed to search for her shorts and T-shirt.
Riley’s thoughts flashed back to that hot and hard kiss Baxter had dropped on Lani the night they’d announced the cookbook deal. The one that had got her wondering all over again, and really questioning what she wanted in her life—who she wanted in it—and how she was going to get to where she could have it. She smiled privately to herself as she quickly pulled on her clothes. Maybe what she had with Quinn wasn’t the love affair of the century, like the Dunnes’ was, but, for what it was right now ... it would do. It would certainly do.
“A shame,” Quinn said.
Riley looked over her shoulder to find him sprawled back, sheet half over his naked body, arms propped behind his head. She was surprised she didn’t outright drool, but it didn’t keep the
you lucky dog
thought from skimming through her mind. “What is?” she asked him, wondering what he thought when he looked at her. He certainly didn’t seem put off.
you lucky dog
thought from skimming through her mind. “What is?” she asked him, wondering what he thought when he looked at her. He certainly didn’t seem put off.
“Putting clothes on that body. When we take our sunset cruise, can we have naked sailing time?”
Her responding grin was swift and honest. He made her feel good about herself, and just ... good in general. Even swifter than the grin was the infusion of warmth his sincerity gave her ... not to mention the healthy boost it gave her ego. Maybe she shouldn’t need that, but after everything she’d been through, and all the self-examination that had followed, she was too human to deny it felt pretty damn good.
“Only if you have five billion level sun block.”
“I’ll take that as a yes then.”
She shot him a dry smile. “Of course you will.”
Brutus scratched at the window.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Keep your collar on.”
“When you come back down, why don’t you grab the stuff from the diner. We can nuke it, have a little reheated breakfast, and—”
“Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh what?”
“I forgot about that. About the food. Someone distracted me.”
Quinn grinned, quite broadly and somewhat smugly. “And?”
“And I’m pretty sure I won’t have to feed Brutus this morning.”
It was entertaining how quickly Quinn’s smug grin turned into a droop of disappointment. “Oh.”
“Right. But I can put something together for you.”
“Do you have eggs, some bacon? I can fix us something quick while you walk the dog. I’ve cooked onboard before.”
“Which is dandy, because I have not. Hence no eggs, no bacon.”
“You’re in a cupcake baking club.”
“We keep the spoilables in the shop kitchen so we don’t have to haul everything back and forth. Char, Dre, and Franco come over the causeway from Savannah, sometimes straight from a job or school, so it helps to keep all refrigerated stuff on-site. I just bring the dry ingredients, or replace what I use of Lani’s.”
“Makes sense. But I wasn’t referring to the lack of eggs. You’re a food stylist. You have culinary training of some kind to do that, right?”
“I’m a trained chef, yes, though I didn’t work in the field as one. My slant was always the photography aspect, though I ended up in design and styling.” She grinned and shrugged. “I love food, trying new things. Not so much preparing all the intricate and involved dishes myself, but I have great respect for those who do, as well as for the final result of the food itself. When I figured out I could combine my love of photography with my love of international cuisine, and make a living at it, it seemed like a no-brainer to me.”
“So you don’t cook,” he repeated. “At all?”
“I said I don’t cook onboard.” She gestured to herself. “Clearly I’m not wasting away here, so I manage. I either nuke stuff—you’d be amazed how much cooking you can actually do in a convection microwave—or I beg, pout, and say pretty, pretty please, and Carlo sends in with Char on club nights whatever dish he’s experimenting on.”
She held up her arm so he could see the Bullwinkle Band-Aid on the back of her tricep. “Rope burn from tying down the deck stuff before that storm—when the water was still flat as glass and there was no wind.” She turned sideways and lifted the hem of her shorts to show a faint, almost healed bruise. “Banging against the dining room table, off-loading bags of groceries. The boat barely even rocked. No way am I turning on anything with the potential to catch fire.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” He sat up, stretched, and the sheet slid farther ... and farther, down his lap. “Would you mind if I gave it a go?”
“Knock yourself out—not literally of course—but like I said, there’s nothing in the pantry to be cooked. Nuked, yes, Grilled, fried, or scrambled, not so much.”
He slid from the bed, making her entire body wobble with want, and walked to her buck naked, simply too good to be true. He framed her face, bent down, and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “That’s why they make markets. I’ll go pick up some stuff and make us dinner. You’ll be back by then, right?”
All she could do was nod, and whimper a little. How could she ache all over again? She should be a walking collection of sore muscles in need of great recuperation time. But had he even nodded toward the bed, she might have been the one to drag him there. Or to the floor. Or the nearest wall.
A huge, thundering
woof
made them jump.
woof
made them jump.
“Right. Sorry, Brutus,” she called out, then looked back at Quinn, whimpered again, turned and fled. It was that or attack him.
That she heard him chuckling all the way as she dashed though the main cabin and out the back sliding door didn’t help matters any. She really needed a better poker face.
She checked that thought and changed her mind as she clipped the lead on the dancing dog. Did it matter if Quinn could read her every thought if he seemed to be of like mind?
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