Tempt Me Tonight (13 page)

Even if his hands on her were like rough velvet. Even if his kisses made her entire body pulse. Even if his flesh pressing so heatedly against hers begged her for surrender. She had to say no.

“Yes or no, Trish,” he said gruffly. “Answer me.”

Say no. Just say it. That one tiny word.

“Yes.” Uh-oh—wrong tiny word.

Ready:
prepared to start the trial or begin oral argument. Usually said by an attorney or party in response to a judge calling the list of scheduled cases;
or
in such a condition to be imminent, likely at any moment.

He groaned at her answer and she let her eyes fall shut.

Dear God, she’d just given in.

And she couldn’t have been more relieved that she hadn’t let him walk away.

“Do things to me,” she whispered.

His breath came hot on her ear. “I’m gonna do
everything
to you, baby.”

The words sent a hot rush of sensation scurrying from the base of her neck all the way down her spine. His kisses returned then, and he massaged her breasts through her top, slowly, so slowly. Moaning at the exquisite pleasure, she couldn’t deny that it was significantly heightened by the hard bulge in his jeans pressing hotly to the sensitive spot between her legs. She pushed back—against his hand, against that bulge—and, oh God, she wanted him, exactly the way she’d had him last night. “I want you in me.”

“Soon.” His breath came labored.

“No, now.”

“Soon,”
he insisted again.

He reached to pull down her shorts, and she lifted for him automatically, everything below her waist aching with maddened desire. He took her cotton panties, too, and when the clothes hit the floor, she bit her lip and parted her legs for him farther.

His gaze dropped there, raw animal heat taking over his expression. The same reckless need surged moistly at her core, and she yearned for him to open his jeans and fill her.

But instead…he dropped to his knees.

Oh.

Oh my.

His breath warmed her inner thighs, making her lips tremble. And just as she’d never pleasured him with her mouth in their youth, they’d never done this before, either. She sucked in her breath and watched him lean closer.

The first kiss to her most sensitive flesh made her shiver. The second made her sob. And then his tongue sliced so deeply into her that she heard her own hot whimper as she drowned in the wondrous sensation.

“Joe.” She hadn’t meant to whisper his name, but there it was. Her body arched toward him, unplanned. “Oh God, Joe.”

Lord knew the man had good hands, but the way he used his mouth was pretty fabulous, too. His lips, suckling slowly, his tongue, tasting deeply. Put them together and it was like a symphony, like she was the instrument and he was playing her. Those skilled hands, too, rose to join in—one stroking her, then parting her wider so that he could slip the fingers of the other inside. She gasped, trembled, thrust involuntarily, swept away from the reality of anything but him and her and raw, consuming heat.

He pushed her higher, higher, making her cry out. She cried his name. She cried words like “Yes!” and “Oh!” Once she murmured, “So close”—and then her body shattered to leave her writhing uncontrollably as moan after moan rocked her.
Yes, oh yes.

Until finally she came back to herself, back to the motel room, and back to Joe, who gazed heatedly up at her.

She wanted to say a million things, but most of them had to do with love, so she let silence prevail. Which was all right, because their eyes said more right now than words ever could—things about passion and sex and emotions that hid deep in the heart, about sharing something powerful and soul-stirring.

He pushed to his feet, stepping close enough that she could smell the manly, musky scent of him again—and then he reached for her hand, pressing it flat against the erection shrouded in his jeans. Oh—so hard. It stole her breath.

“Unzip me,” he said, their gazes locked hotly.

She undid the top button, pulled down the zipper. Reached into his briefs to wrap her fist full around his length. He shuddered and she bit her lip at the pleasure, then they both pushed his jeans past his hips.

His voice came deep, raspy. “Do you want me to wear a condom this time?”

She didn’t even consider it. “No. I want to feel you completely. Nothing between us.” He made her so reckless.

He growled in reply, a sound that moved through her like thunder, and they both watched as he entered her. The blatant sight combined with being so smoothly, deeply filled left her weak. Her eyes fell shut.

“No,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

She forced them back open and met his gaze, fiery and possessive, as he moved inside her. She clung to his shoulders and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She continued peering at him through each powerful stroke, until finally she had to kiss him. Had to. No choice. Just compulsion.

One kiss became two, then more—long, sweet, tongue kisses that matched the rhythm of their sex, the connection of their mouths as deep as the connection below.

“So good, Trishy,” he breathed.

“Mmm…yes.” Things had somehow turned slower now, each thrust long, raw, and real. Trish had never felt so very captured by a man—in a good way. An
incredible
way. This was so far beyond “just physical” that the force of it nearly broke her in two.

I love you still.
She held in the words. Because as astounding as this was, as deeply as he possessed her in this moment—nothing had changed. Her heart still hurt. She
couldn’t
love him still. Yet she drank up each precious kiss, found herself living for this sacred connection of their bodies, and savored every second of it.

When his hands closed tight over her rear, he pushed in even deeper—which, dear God, she hadn’t known was even possible. “Oh!” The slight shift changed
everything,
and she knew she’d have another orgasm. Soon.
Really
soon.

She clutched madly at his shoulders, holding on for dear life, and moved against him harder, faster, the pleasure inside her rising, fast, so fast—until she was toppling into ecstasy, deep, wild moans being torn from her throat.

“Aw, God,” he said suddenly. “Aw, God, baby, you’re making me come.”

She still clung to him as he drove wildly, groaning his release in her ear, and taking him there brought her such profound feminine satisfaction that she didn’t care if
she
ever had another orgasm again.

A tear rolled ticklishly down her cheek, but she wiped it quickly away on his shirt, thankful he hadn’t seen. She’d never been so sated in her life—but she’d also never felt more lonely, because the truth in her heart hadn’t changed.

Somehow—she wasn’t sure when—he’d lifted her up off the dresser to support her weight completely, and now they collapsed in each other’s arms on the bed. They lay silent for a few seconds, both frozen in the moment, a mess with tangled clothes and wetness, but neither made a move.

They faced each other, so it was impossible not to peer into those searching blue eyes. He lifted one hand to her cheek to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen free from her clip. “I didn’t plan this,” he said. “I only came here for answers.”

Trish’s mind was a blur. “Answers?”

“Whatever last night was about, Trish,” he began, voice soft, “just tell me.”

His words hung in the air like the dark ash that drifts slowly down after fireworks, and she realized that she, too, was tired of this lie. Especially after what they’d just shared. Besides, she’d be going back to Indianapolis soon anyway. And as much as she hated to say anything to him that would imply she still cared, she couldn’t keep being so stupidly dishonest. “I…wanted you. But I…didn’t want it to mean anything, because…I guess the truth is,” she whispered, “I just haven’t really forgiven you.”

Although something in his eyes looked a bit wounded, he gave a solitary nod. “Last night was shocking as hell, cupcake, but to finally be with you…it
did
mean something. At least to me.”

Me, too.
But she refused to take her honesty that far. Refused to put herself out there, at risk. So she stayed quiet.

His expression shifted then, into something more gruff than sad. “You said you’d stay. I thought you were giving me a chance to make up for the past.”

She didn’t quite know how to answer, so her voice came small. “I guess I shouldn’t have agreed to pancakes. It was just…easier, I guess.”

“Than?”

“The truth.”

His gaze burned on her and his voice was frank. “It was pretty shitty to leave in the middle of the night.”

Fresh anger sparked inside her, making her sit up in bed. Suddenly feeling naked, she reached to pull the skirt of the bedspread up over her waist as she stared down at him in disbelief. “What about what
you
did to
me?
That wasn’t shitty?” She didn’t mean to go back there, but she couldn’t help it.

He sat up next to her, bringing their faces close again. “Of course it was—it was the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever made. But I never got to tell you that because you didn’t want anything to do with me. And now we’re grown-ups, Trish, not kids—and just because I handled things rotten
then
doesn’t mean you should keep handling them rotten
now.
It seems like…trying to get even with me.” He shook his head lightly. “Is that what you wanted? To try to hurt me?”

Trish took a deep breath. She honestly didn’t know the answer to his question, so she couldn’t answer. Instead, something deeper boiled to the surface. “You should have come after me,” she blurted.

He blinked. “What?”

“When I left for college, you should have come after me.”

“But you said—”

“Who cares what I said—you should have ignored it! You should have made a grand gesture! If you loved me, you should have made me
see
it, you should have found some way to
prove
it, some way to make things
right.
I might have slammed my dorm room door in your face for all I know, but no matter what I might have done, you should have gotten in your car and come after me.”

She hadn’t even known she’d wanted that until this moment. Or at least she’d never admitted it to herself. But maybe back then, she’d waited, hoped—just in the back of her mind—that he’d come, that he’d beg her forgiveness. And he never had.

He released a heavy breath, ran his hands back through his hair. He sat with his head slumped over, but finally looked up. “You think I didn’t consider that? Because I did. Probably a hundred times.”

“But you didn’t do it.”

His gaze narrowed. “It seemed awful easy for you to leave, Trish.”

She gasped, utterly shocked, and almost wanted to slap him again. “How dare you!” she snapped. “You have no idea…”
How much I hurt. How long it took to quit feeling the pain. How it changed me inside.
But she still didn’t want him to know all that. A hint of self-preservation.

“No, I guess I don’t,” he said, sounding surprisingly contrite for a second. “But you were gone, off having a new life, and for all I knew, our breakup worked out good for you.”

Well, it didn’t.
Another thing she hadn’t the bravery to tell him. Because this would all be over soon, and she wanted him to remember her as she was
now
—a strong, bold, confident woman. Not as she’d been then, after the breakup—a broken, devastated girl who’d feared she’d never recover from losing him.

“Believe it or not,” he went on, his voice lower, “you’re not the only one who was hurting. What happened was my fault, but it changed my life, too. In a lot of ways.”

“You have…a daughter,” she said, the very words pinching in her stomach. She knew about Beverly’s child, knew from Debbie that there were questions surrounding the paternity, but that Joe had taken at least some role in the girl’s life. She supposed she’d chosen not to let herself think about that since coming back home, but now that they were putting certain truths on the table, she could no longer ignore it.

He looked up. “It’s complicated.”

“So I hear.” Even Debbie wasn’t sure if Joe was really the father.

“But that’s a story for another time. Right now what I want to know is…” He lifted those blue eyes back to hers, looking earnest and sexy and so tempting that she could taste it. “Couldn’t we start fresh? Couldn’t we move past what happened then, and what’s happened the last couple of days and just…start over?”

Trish blinked, trying to understand. She was pretty sure he was suggesting…a relationship. A grown-up romance. Being lovers.

Her chest tightened. First with hope—and a strange tinge of happiness. But then with the utter impossibility of it. “Joe,” she began, too softly.

His eyes still met hers, yet she knew her tone said it all—she saw it in his eyes, in the flat, straight line his mouth made, stretching across his handsome face.

She tried again. “Joe, I don’t live here anymore. I have a different life now—so completely different. But more than that…”
You could hurt me again—so, so badly—if I let you.
Already she knew that. She didn’t know if she was really, truly, still in love with him—but dear God, there was
something
there, something big, more than sex.

“More than that, I…don’t know if I can forget the past. I’ve moved on, obviously, but seeing you, being with you…it’s dredged up some old memories. Some good. But some pretty awful.”

He sighed, yet never broke their gaze. “I get all that, Trish. Every bit of it. But I’m asking you to try to forgive me. Just try.”

She drew in her breath, sat up a little straighter, attempting to steel herself. “I’m not trying
not
to forgive you. I don’t like that I haven’t, believe me. I don’t think of myself as someone who holds a grudge. But I can’t help how I feel. And the fact is,” she went on, “soon I’ll be leaving and you’ll probably never see me again, so whether or not I forgive you doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things.”

He let out a breath. “Maybe it matters in
my
big scheme of things.”