Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two (7 page)

“Uh…” She floundered, considering whether she had—turned out she had—and whether she should admit it, but before she could speak, he smiled, full and bright.

“Just kidding, Quinn. You like your steak medium, right?”

“Medium well.”

“An abomination,” he said as he turned back toward the stove. “How can you taste the meat if it’s burned?”

“I’m sorry that I prefer my food cooked, monsieur,” she said as she walked over to the table with Ethan.

“One day you will see the error of your ways,” he retorted and then refocused on the task.

As she bounced Ethan and made silly faces at him, she considered the domestic tableau before her. They could be any parents anywhere, settling down for a meal after a long day. Recently, many of her days had ended like this with her or Alexander making dinner while the other attended to Ethan, followed by bath time. And Alexander more than did his part, not hesitating to take part in daily routine, standing as a partner with her in the day-to-day minutia that was so a part of life with a baby. Alexander had proven his commitment to work early in their acquaintance, but this full-throated embrace of this life was impressive.

And arousing.

Achingly arousing.

Add his physicality to the mix, the way he managed to look like a cover model whether it was noon and he was headed to the park or 4:00 a.m. on those mornings Ethan decided predawn was the perfect time to play. She’d felt like a schlub on more than one occasion, but mostly, she couldn’t shake the near-irresistible desire to kiss him, hold him close, feel him moving inside her.

Today was no exception. The black sleeveless T-shirt he wore clung to his pecs and abdomen, outlining the hard muscles she knew lay underneath, and his shorts, though loose, pulled tight around his cock, cupping it as lovingly as she would have liked to. Quinn’s fingers practically itched with the need to touch him.

This is how you got into this in the first place, stupid!
she scolded herself but to no avail. As Alexander moved around the kitchen like he owned it, like he belonged there, with them, she wanted to scream with desire, unbidden images of all the things Alexander had done to her, things she still wanted him to do, flashed through her mind. Dinner and bath time passed in a blur, and after they lay Ethan down, it just the three of them: her, Alexander, and her raging arousal.

She stood at the sink, washing and rewashing the same plate, when Alexander whispered into her ear. “I think it’s clean, Quinn.”

She shrieked, not having realized he was so close, or that she was so distracted, and then tittered at her own response. Tilting her head toward Alexander, she looked up, the words on her tongue freezing in her throat when she saw the naked heat in his gaze. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he reached over and turned off the faucet and then trailed his hand up her forearm, making the hairs there stand on end. Up he went until he reached her jaw. He traced the skin of her jaw and then trailed his fingers across her lips, which tingled at the contact. And still he looked at her, eyes blazing, the rich brown color almost eaten by his dilated pupils.

“I told myself I’d follow your lead, let you set the pace,” he whispered, still stroking her lips. “But I know you feel it, this thing between us. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Unable to stop herself, she stepped closer, leaning in toward him, the action pushing his finger hard against her lips. Instead of responding, she opened them and took the tip of his finger into her mouth, swiped it with her tongue, eliciting a moan. Encouraged, and more turned on than she’d been in a year, she grabbed his T-shirt, uncaring of her wet hands, and pulled him close, relief flooding her when she felt his hardening cock pressing into her belly.

And then, a wicked smile curving his lips, Alexander took over. He swooped down and captured her lips in a soul-searing kiss, hands, tongue, mouth,
him
everywhere. Her pussy throbbed with the need for him, and a shift of her hips revealed the moisture pooling between her thighs.

As he moved his lips lower to kiss her neck, he drifted his hands down and cupped her ass, the ample flesh, unrestrained by underwear, yielding to his touch. Her clit was pressed against the fabric of her pants and his movements jiggled her, causing the fabric to scape against the engorged flesh and making her moan, the sound escaping into his mouth, which still covered her own.

Apparently not satisfied with the contact, Alexander slipped his hand into her pants, the feel of his hot skin against hers making her moan again. Moving lower, Alexander stroked his hands down the curve of her ass cheeks and delved between her thighs, opening her as he went, exposing her core to his touch. She moaned as he slicked his fingers through her wetness and rocked his hips, pressing his now fully erect member against her. Then he slid his hand down farther, gasping her thighs and lifting, urging her up. She complied and wrapped her legs around his lean hips, any concern about whether he could hold her weight fleeing at the feel of his hot, hard cock pressed against her cleft.

Unable to resist, she rocked her hips once, twice, moaning at the riot of sensation the movement sparked.

Alexander again captured her lips in a feverish kiss as he walked her to one of the couches and settled her there, sliding down her body to rest between her legs, eye level with her breasts. In a flash, he’d slid her pants down her legs and tossed them aside and was now at work on her shirt, which proved no match for his talented fingers. Now dressed in a bra and nothing else, Quinn remembered that he hadn’t seen her since the baby, and she wondered if the changes in her body would—

She shrieked at the pleasure that shot through her when Alexander licked a wide stripe down her still-covered breast.

“Stay with me, Quinn. Here with me right now.”

Like she’d go anywhere else, especially if he continued to lick and touch her the way he just had.

Oh, well. The lights were low. That’d have to be enough, because there was no way she could stop now. She reached for the hem of Alexander’s sinful T-shirt and pulled the garment up his torso, her way of making it clear exactly where she was, both mind and body.

At the first touch of his heated skin, the feel of the hard muscles rippling in his back, she couldn’t help but release a sigh, and when she’d finally pulled it over his head and pressed her bra-covered breasts against his chest, the heat of his skin nearly scorching her, even through the fabric, she moaned and arched into him, waiting to meet him wherever she could. As she arched, he reached behind her and made quick work of her bra, freeing her breasts for his touch, his gaze. He used both, eyes zeroing in on her breasts, thumbs stroking the puckered buds of her nipples in an erratic rhythm that mirrored her heartbeat. He then cupped her, plumping the tender flesh that overflowed his hands.

“So full, so beautiful,” he said reverently before he leaned down and captured her left nipple between his lips, circling the swollen nub with the tip of his tongue before sucking hard.

She whimpered at the action, the intense pleasure leaving her little ability to do anything else, especially when he repeated the action with the right breast. She curled her hands around his back and arched even higher, silently begging for him to continue, to push her to her release.

“Not yet,” he said with a chuckle in response to her unspoken request. “I still want to play.”

He pulled back, and she opened eyes she hadn’t realized were closed to see him slide his shorts down, carefully maneuvering around his cock, until he was fully, finally, naked.

Her heart pounded triple time at the sight of him kneeling before her, his cock jutting proud and strong, the faint light of the room glinting off the moisture that clung beaded at his slit. How many times in these past months had she imagined this, longed for him, and now he was here, as if ripped from a dream.

The fabric of the couch felt rough against her sensitive skin, and as Alexander put one hand on each of her inner thighs, urging her legs farther apart, the brush of the cooler air of the room against her heated clit had her squirming and moisture seeping from her. Alexander leaned forward and feathered a kiss at the juncture of her thigh, before licking that same crease. She cried out, the barrage of sensation making her reel while leaving her desperate for more, desperate for him to move his tongue just an inch or two, right to that spot…

“I missed this, Quinn,” he said, his voice thick with arousal, his puffs of breath making her squirm harder as they hit her clit. “I dreamed of you, your scent”—he rasped his tongue over her clit, eliciting a strangled cry that ended in a whimper—“your taste. And now I have it, have you, again…”

He trailed off as he dove his tongue between her lips, slicking up one side and then the other, his breath still tickling her clit, which stood prominent and practically begging for his attention. Which he denied, instead circling her opening with his tongue and then retreating to swipe her sex again and again. Even without the touch to her clit that she craved, she was on the edge, the tension of his presence, the longing she’d felt in his absence, all combining into an explosive bundle of energy that had her muscles locked tight, limbs thrumming with the need for release.

And then he touched her, circled her clit with his tongue before swiping over the bundle of nerves and pressing down, the pressure shooting through her womb and into her gut, triggering her release. The orgasm hit hard and fast; there were no gentle waves, no stars behind her eyes. This pleasure was rough, jerky, made her fear that she’d come out of her skin with the intensity of it. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t moan; she could only lie there as the pleasure racked her body, spiking so high that it was threaded through with hints of pain. Through it all, he was there, holding her, arm latched across her waist, licking at the juices that flowed freely from her now.

As the intensity ebbed, leaving her sapped in its wake, she noticed that he was kissing his way up her stomach, grazing her nipples with his teeth before he stopped at her lips. Before she could speak, her captured her mouth in a kiss, and her flavor exploded across her tongue as he stroked it in and out of her mouth, the motion making her ache with the need to feel his cock inside her. On instinct, she widened her legs and then felt his cock press against her opening, the first time he’d touched her skin against skin in such an intimate way. She reveled in the contact, at the thought of him plunging inside her, filling her.

And then she froze, the realization hitting her like a lightning strike. He stilled and pulled back, breaking the kiss.

“Look at me, Quinn,” he commanded.

She opened her eyes and was immediately caught in his gaze.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low, yet fervent, the deeper meaning underscoring his words.

She hesitated a single moment and then nodded.

His smile, as bright as it was brief, broke and was replaced with his heated gaze in the blink of an eye.

And then he thrust.

But, rather than the expected—and desired—invasion, the head of his cock brushed against her clit, and his shaft nestled between her labia. With each move, she felt her juices coat his shaft, the smooth glide of his skin against hers, the slap of his sac hitting against her ass as he moved floating up to her ears and blending with their increasingly pitched moans to create a symphony of passion. He continued to thrust, his cock now fully coated with a mixture of her cream and his precum, and with each movement, the head of his cocked bumped her clit and sent pleasure spiraling through her until she felt that familiar rising in her stomach, so surprising after the pleasure-pain intensity of her last orgasm.

Alexander’s movements became frenzied, and he reached between their bodies to strum her clit, hastening her ascent.

The pleasure was gentle this time, but no less potent, and soon, she felt him stiffen and moan, low and deep, as he spilled his seed on her belly, painting her abdomen with stream after stream of pearly fluid. She looked down and felt another clench of arousal at the sight of his essence on her skin, at his cock, still hard and flushed red, glistening with the combination of their sweat, his cum, and her cream.

She reached up and captured his lips in a kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and holding him close.

They stayed that way for as long as they could, uncaring of the mess until Ethan’s sharp wail screeching out over the baby monitor roused them. Still lethargic, Quinn attempted to sit up, but she was stilled by Alexander’s hand on her collarbone.

“I’ll take care of him,” he said as he grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped off her abdomen. “Shower, and go to bed. I’ll join you later.”

She thought of resisting, but Alexander had long ago proven a capable caretaker, and the siren’s call of a shower and bed seemed too much to resist. By the time she stood, he’d washed his hands, run upstairs and grabbed Ethan and stood in the kitchen softly whispering to the baby, who drifted between asleep and wakefulness, as he made a bottle.

As she showered, later when she checked in on Ethan, and then after when Alexander slipped into bed beside her and wrapped her in an embrace, she waited for them to come: the fear, the nerves, the recriminations, the realization that what they’d done had been a mistake.

They never did.