The Bare Facts (5 page)

“This is our fantasy, Dylan. You can do anything you want.” Haley stabbed her fingers into his hair until she reached his nape, her touch electric and arousing.

“Yeah. Right.” He slipped his finger inside the lace of the bra with a slow, teasing touch. Haley closed her eyes, her breath hitching, her hands clutching his shoulders.

He pushed the bra up over her beautiful rose-tipped breasts and higher. She lay back and stretched her arms above her head. He pushed the scrap of red lace to her wrists and held it there, pinning her to the soft pillows and luxurious rug. His eyes locked on hers as he kneed her legs apart and settled his hips against her. Her hips rose up to meet his in a silent, tormenting dance, sending ripples of clawing pleasure snaking around his vitals.

Haley felt as if she were melting like chocolate.
The tantalizing scent of raspberries teased her senses. Dylan's essence overwhelmed her reason, took her breath. His dark hair gleamed in the glow of the fire, long, thick eyelashes hiding his dark green eyes. Dylan was all hot, hard male above her, his sultry expression a mask of seductive need. She offered herself totally, opened herself, wound her legs around his hips.

He pulsated with life and hot desire. Drawing closer, his hand curled around the softness of her breast. Lowering his head, he very gently flicked his tongue over her hardened nipple.

Heat, scorching heat, like an out-of-control wildfire scalded every pulsating inch of her body. Her nipples throbbed, enticing her to arch her back and thrust more of her into his mouth.

Dylan moaned deep and long as he took her hungrily like a starved man. A jolt of pleasure raced along her nerve endings with that soft, hoarse moan. He took as much of her as he could fit into his mouth, the hard bud of her nipple feeling erotic beneath the moist warmth of his mouth.

He left her breasts and trailed his kisses across her belly. Finally letting go of her wrists, he unzipped her jeans. After he peeled her jeans and underclothes off her, he kissed his way up the inside of one leg, nipping, licking, lingering in the tender curve of her knee, then in the even more sensitive crease where thigh met hip.

Haley rose up, intending to pull him back to her, but he resisted. Gently he pushed on her shoulders,
making her lie flat again. Then he reached for the warmed raspberry sauce that sat on the lip of the fireplace.

He dipped her fingers in the sauce and put each one in his mouth, sucking gently. His gaze, hot and magnetic, caught on hers, his green eyes glittering.

He dipped his own finger in the sauce and smeared the warmed liquid raspberries on the tips of her breasts with a swirling, intoxicating movement. Haley arched her back at the hot feel of the juice, crying out when Dylan's sensual mouth joined with the raspberry liquid as he sucked powerfully on her breasts.

His hands slipped down to her hips. He picked up the container again and poured the warmed liquid over her belly. The sauce pooled there, and he lapped it off her skin.

He held her captive with his hands on her hips, his breath blowing, warm and teasing, across her groin as he spoke, “Sweet. Haley, you are so sweet.”

When his mouth moved lower, Haley shifted restlessly. He parted her and kissed her on her most sensitive flesh again and again. They were light, teasing kisses that stole her breath. Sliding his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her. With a growl deep in his throat, he settled his mouth fully against her, drinking deep of the sweet, warm honey of her woman's body, exploring her, caressing her, arousing her with languorous strokes of his tongue.

Crying out, Haley thrashed with mind-bending pleasure. In her meager experience, this was a forbidden pleasure, one she had allowed no other man. Dy
lan was taking the liberty, as if he had every right to her body's most intimate secrets. The idea thrilled her in a way she knew it shouldn't have, which only added to the excitement. She tangled her fingers in the black silk of his hair. Her hips arched and bucked, twisting for the best angle and optimum contact with his mouth.

Haley arched up like a strung bow, reaching for the terrifying freedom from the bounds she had been living within. The desire built and swirled with vibrant heat inside her, with fiery coils of sensation. The sensations drew to a sharp, excruciating point that sent waves of pleasure exploding through her as he pushed her over the edge.

Her inner muscles still pulsed with little tremors as he began to slide his hot, tight-muscled body up over hers. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him back until he was reclining on the pillows.

Dylan's pulse leaped when she dipped her hand in the sauce and smeared it on her palms. Unsure of her next move, he gasped uncontrollably when she cupped his erection between her hands, her movement achingly slow. Her face was flushed, gloriously beautiful with her pleasure.

His back arched; he clenched his teeth and panted through them when she stroked the most unbearably sensitive part of him with the tip of her tongue. Sweet flashes of agony sent tiny spasms through his frame when she took him into her mouth. He began to move, he couldn't help himself, his hips pressed forward into the rhythmic strokes.

Dylan pulled her up against him, and Haley eagerly straddled the erotic cradle of his body. She cried out when he surged forward, forcing her onto her back. It took him agonizing moments to slip on protection. Then, with frenzied thrusts, he slipped inside her.

His mouth moved frantically over hers, demanding more, taking more, catching the soft, wild sounds of her pleasure, and her reaction was like a sweetness that coated his tongue to be savored and jealously guarded.

The moon rose into the gauzy net of the clouds, and the temperature dropped, but, in the room where they gave themselves to each other, the fire crackled. A soft rosy glow glistened over their naked bodies, moving in perfect harmony.

Haley, her breath hitching in her throat at each deep thrust, slid her hands over the flexing, sweat-slick muscles of his back. Her fingers stretched over the tight, rounded mounds of his buttocks. She fondled and squeezed, urging him to increase tempo until he was lifting her hips off the rug with each thrust, until they were both nearly frantic with the need for release. As the pleasure sparkled through them, release burst upon them simultaneously.

H
ALEY WOKE
wrapped in Dylan's arms—naked, boneless, weighted with a delicious heaviness. She remembered every single erotic moment of last night. Her fingers itched to get to a keyboard so she could relive the whole thing over again. It hadn't stopped with the fire and the raspberry sauce, but had only moved upstairs to the shower. He'd teased her under the heated spray, finally taking her against the wall with hard, quick thrusts. Afterward, dried off and sated, they'd fallen into bed.

Dylan stirred. Haley panicked, acutely aware of his wonderful body pressed against hers. The fantasy was over and she needed to get herself out of bed and dressed. She slipped out of his arms and picked up a damp towel that was on the floor. All her clothes were downstairs.

Dylan's arm reached out and held her wrist. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To get dressed. I've got to go, Dylan. I have an article to write and a deadline to meet.”

“It's early, come back to bed. I'll make it worth your while,” he promised, looking up at her with heavy-lidded, sexy green eyes, a wicked grin and the
promise of pleasure a kiss away. He looked lethal in the morning, all hard, hot male, tousled, irresistible.

She was tempted. So very tempted, but that wouldn't help her to stay focused on the ball. At least not the one her father had been talking about. She could lose herself in his arms. She knew it.

“I can't.”

He sighed. “Can't say I'm not disappointed. It's beautiful up here. We could go for a quick hike before we leave.”

She watched his powerful muscles contract and release as he stretched like a big lazy cat. Lethal. He was a lethal combination of prime male and hot sin. And she wanted him, but not for a fantasy. That thought tried to worm its way into her heart. The new sensations clung to her like the stickiness of the raspberry sauce. They clamored for a satisfaction she could only fantasize about. A fulfillment of a need she had sworn she'd deny.

She'd promised herself that she would not have these cravings. Ha! Like she could control them.

His next words threw ice water on her warm, stupid little fantasy.

“If you want to put on fresh clothes, there's a closet full in the next bedroom.”

Haley stepped into the hall, her stomach dropping like a stone. She leaned against the wall for support, closing her eyes. She'd been right. She should have known he'd bring his women friends here. Well, she'd never wear clothes from his other lovers.

Strangely, not even that seemed enough to tame the
almost savage craving still running through her. It was as if some deep, elemental part of her was acting on a primitive instinct to find someone that would protect her, love her. Only her. The need to be loved overwhelmed her. It was the same need to explore all the fascinating facets of being a woman, being alive, of learning exactly what life itself was about.

Dylan made her want all those things with him.

It was quite impossible.

 

W
HEN
D
YLAN CAME
downstairs, he was only wearing his tight, unsnapped jeans. Bare-chested and barefoot, he walked past her and disappeared into the kitchen. She sat on the sofa tying her bootlaces and watched through the kitchen doorway as he busied himself with starting a pot of coffee. Haley couldn't take her eyes off his flexing back. His words startled her and she looked away guiltily.

“Want something to eat?”

“I'd rather get on the road.”

“Come on, Haley. Don't you know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?” His teasing only made her want to escape his presence all the more. This familiarity, closeness and shared amusement just wouldn't do. She had to keep her distance.

There was a faint scent of raspberry in the air. It only reminded Haley of Dylan's warm hands, his hard body, and the way the man kissed. It had to be illegal.

She got up off the sofa and reached for her jacket. As he appeared in the doorway, he flashed her an engaging smile. His teeth were stark white against his
tan skin. “Let me guess. You're not a morning person.”

Answer him, Haley, she told herself. He's asking you a question, but just then Dylan put his hands over his head and grabbed the top of the door frame. He cocked his hip and leaned lightly, causing his biceps to bulge, his achingly beautiful chest to go taut. She understood what the phrase “The devil made me do it” meant because the man was sinfully gorgeous. Now she knew what pure, unadulterated temptation was.

She turned away, because if she didn't, she'd walk over there and put her hands on him. She was afraid they wouldn't get out of this cabin for a week.

“I've really got to go, Dylan. Can't we pick something up on the way?” Her need to get away from him made her voice petulant. She turned her back on him, unable to look at him and not want him.

“Haley, let me at least give you something for the road. It's only breakfast. It's not like you're accepting something that you can't repay, for crying out loud.”

Haley knew she was being stupid. It was making him wonder what her problem was. She didn't want him to think she had difficulty being in his presence. “All right,” she said ungraciously.

“What would you like?”

“French toast.” She folded her arms over her chest, not looking happy about it.

“Now you're talking.”

She evaded his eyes and the soft look of compassion she knew would be there, and totally changed
the subject. “Do you like coming up into the mountains on a regular basis?”

“I like it all right.”

“I always thought it would be nice to live on the ocean,” she said wistfully, looking out the windows that overlooked the backyard. “It must be great to fall asleep listening to the waves against the shore and walk along the beach in the morning while watching the sunrise.”

“I imagine it is. Ever been to the cape?”

“No. Not the cape. I want tropical. Palm trees and white sand and warm, salty water.”

“Ever tried surfing?” he asked as he pulled out a large skillet and sprayed the bottom with cooking spray.

“Just a little body surfing. Plates?”

“In the top left-hand cupboard.”

She pulled them out and walked past him, setting them on the small kitchen table.

“You?”

“Once on a trip to Hawaii. It was really hard. Would you like coffee?” he asked.

“Yes. Let me. You have your hands full,” she said as she took the carafe of coffee out of the automatic maker and poured two cups. Picking hers up, she sipped the hot liquid.

“Ever made love on the beach?”

She dropped the cup; liquid splattered on the white tile floor and the cup smashed into little pieces. Hot coffee splashed on her hand and she cried out.

He immediately turned off the stove. Avoiding the
smashed cup, he pulled her over to the sink. He turned on the cold-water tap and held her burned hand under the water.

He didn't say anything, but she could feel the heat of his hand holding hers under the spray as he periodically took her hand out of the cool stream to examine it. His intensity made her want to squirm.

He frowned. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Thought you were a little more open-minded about… I don't know what the hell I'm saying. Ignore me.”

He gently dried her hand with a towel and again inspected her hand.

“I don't think it'll blister.”

She shook her head. “If you point me in the direction of the broom, I'll clean up the mess I made. You don't have any shoes on.”

He moved away from her and the shards of ceramic on the floor. The air he stirred made her shiver. His delicious cinnamon scent was driving her wild.

While he was getting the broom and dustpan, she pulled a bunch of paper towels from the roll on the counter and mopped up most of the mess. By the time he came back with the broom, she had all the coffee cleaned up.

She made short work of sweeping the floor, making sure to get all the shards. “No. I've never made love on the beach. Have you?”

Dylan was back at the stove and he was working on the French toast once again. “No.”

Haley poured another cup of coffee and sipped it slowly, savoring the taste.

“Would you like to?” he asked as soon as she set the cup on the counter.

Haley couldn't help herself. She smiled, “Yes. Someday I think I would.”

He dished up the toast onto the plates on the table and put the pan in the sink.

They sat down and Haley asked him, “Would you?”

He buttered his toast and poured out a generous helping of syrup. “Yes. With the right woman,” he said quietly, licking his fingers clean of the sticky syrup.

She watched his pink tongue flick in and out and remembered how the wet heat felt against her skin. Her mouth went dry suddenly. Electricity, sizzling and charged, coursed across her skin, singeing her nerve endings.

There was something about this man that robbed her of her sanity. Sure, he was good-looking and that's what she'd noticed first about him, but there was something else buried deep in him that called out to her. Enticed her with a need to know the things she saw in his eyes. He had a devotion to the beautiful things in life. She knew it was there in him and it drew her like a moth sure of its own death to the source of that light again and again. Her eyes couldn't seem to get enough of absorbing all that finely controlled male energy.

“Where?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper. She cleared her throat.

“There's this place in Hawaii on Maui where they have these amazing black sand beaches. The water is like azure blue and so crystal clear you can see the bottom.” He paused and looked at her with those intense green eyes. Leaning toward her, he said, “I'd like to see your body against that sand and through that clear, clear water.”

To her utter dismay, she wanted to touch him, his chiseled chest and every sleek contour, run her fingers along the strong line of his jaw, over those compelling lips. When his tongue snaked out to lick his lips, her body stiffened at the thought of taking its hot slickness into her own mouth, simply to savor the spicy taste of him, and once sampled, lured like a deep aching hunger for more.

She got up from the table on the pretense of getting her coffee cup. She heard his chair scrape across the floor. “Wow. That sounds wonderful,” she managed to say as her body involuntarily moved while he crowded her against the countertop.

Dylan's well-formed chest rippled when he moved his arms on either side of her, his biceps bunching as he leaned toward her. His scent was overpowering, shutting out all thoughts of anything but this compelling man. His restless gaze locked on to hers. “You know what else I'd want to do to you on that beach, Haley?” he said, a darkness shadowing his eyes, his voice hushed as if the words spoken too loudly would make it true.

She looked at him expectantly, but not able to name the emotions that raged inside her. Still, she could see
him on that beach—the sun making his dark skin glisten, his powerful thighs and hips crushing her into the sand, making her writhe with his lovemaking.

She felt strange then, a fierce tender feeling that she had never felt before for a man she barely knew. She admired him even though she thought he was a womanizer. It seemed all his intensity was focused on her for this one moment in time. This one reckless moment.

When she didn't answer him, he moved closer, his eyes reading the need for her to know what he had to say. “I'd want to taste every inch of you while the sun heated our skin, my hot mouth all over you. I'd want to take you every way a man can take a woman.”

She closed her eyes to gain her composure. She could feel his lips gently caress her cheekbone. “You really know how to play this game, Dylan. Maybe I should have
you
write my column.” She searched his compelling face looking for clues to the inner workings of him.

Thick dark lashes dropped over his astonishing eyes like a black curtain and she felt bereft at the loss of his vital gaze. He was thinking about what she'd asked. When he had an answer, his lashes raised, and he said, “You think I'm playing a game. Let's get to that sandy beach someday and I'll show you I'm not playing.”

Dylan came so close to touching her, his heart pounding in his chest as if he'd run a difficult mile. His hands tightened on the countertop. He wanted to
press his mouth against the sweet fragrance of her skin right at her pulse point. He could see it beating as erratically as his heart was beating right now. Hunger, vicious and insatiable, curled through his body, reacting to the obvious response in her. This clear interest she had in him warmed something cold and lonely inside him. Yet, he could feel beneath all her bravado that she wasn't as tough as she pretended. It intrigued him. A sensual pressure urged him to find out what kind of woman she was hiding under all that hardness.

He forced himself to move away from her. He leaned his hip against the counter, casually resting his elbow on the cool polished marble top to give him time to get himself under control. She was trying to put distance between them. He felt it the moment he woke. He didn't want distance but he understood her logic. If there was only sex between them, there couldn't be anything else. Instead, he returned to his plate of French toast and talk of Hawaii ceased. He asked her to pass the sugar and he felt the slight tremble in her hand as their flesh met. The simple brush caused his heart to start pounding again.

 

I
T DIDN'T TAKE
them long to clean up. Haley found that she was relieved and strangely bereft that he'd moved away from her earlier. She did everything she could to keep her distance. As soon as the dishes were done, she asked, “Could we go now?”

She felt him come up behind her. His voice was soft, “Sure, honey.” Then very gently he moved the
mass of her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Every single cell in her body went liquid. Dylan slid past her and walked back up the stairs.