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“Fair enough.” She paused next to the bed and faced him. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and pink still flushed her skin from the hot water. Fuck, she was gorgeous.
He kissed her, searing the sensation of her soft lips into his thoughts. Each moan and gasp she made acted like a string connected to his cock. She plucked the condom from between his fingers, and without breaking away, rolled it into place. The smooth motion made him grit his teeth in anticipation.
She glided his cock head along her slit. She was already slippery again. God, he couldn’t do this. He spun them both, so he could sit on the edge of the bed, and pulled her to straddle his legs. Instead of lowering herself, she hovered, the heat of her center teasing him. He wasn’t going to last at all once he sank into her, and he wanted to draw this out a little longer. He dropped his thumb to her clit and rubbed lightly. She squirmed and tried to pull away, but he gripped her thigh, holding her in place. She twisted and moaned. Dug her nails into his arms, rather than try to escape. Her eyelids fluttered, and a cry tore from her throat when she came again.
He thrust up when her grip tightened, and groaned at the sudden penetration. He slammed inside her, as her pussy clenched around him. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she might break the skin with her nails. He didn’t care. His head swam each time he plunged deep, and lights danced across his vision. Orgasm cascaded through him, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t slow his pounding inside her until he was spent and the edge of intensity tapered off.
He matched his rhythm to hers, slowing and then stopping as she did. She leaned forward until she rested her head on his chest, still straddling him. As he softened, he slipped out of her. The only sound in the room was the downpour of rain mixed with their efforts to catch their breath. Her cheek was hot against his skin, teasing and comforting.
He trailed his fingers through her hair, watching the pale strands flutter down against the dim light. “I think I owe you dinner.”
“Aren’t you supposed to do that before, not after?” Her laugh fluttered through him.
“Am I? I guess I need a little more practice, to get this right. Either way, I think the rain ruined the noodles on the way over here.”
She rolled off him and curled up next to his side, head on his arm. “I don’t think your Stroganoff was meant to be.”
“I still owe you dinner.” He kissed the top of her head before extracting himself. A nagging inside wanted him to stay wrapped up with Bailey, and that was the exact reason he wouldn’t. “Permission to raid your kitchen for something else?”
For a moment her smile looked sad, but it cheered before he could think about it too much. She sat, making no attempt to cover up. “If you insist.”
Unable to stop himself, he leaned in one more time and stole another quick, hungry kiss. “Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.” He strode from the room before she could reply. Hanging around would either lead to playful teasing, or another round of fighting, and both seemed like a bad idea.
He paused in the bathroom doorway,of courserepeating in his head when he saw his clothes in a wet pile by the tub. His bag was back in his car. Apparently, he was destined to spend large parts of this trip wandering around in almost nothing.
*
BAILEY FLOPPED ONTOher back and stared at the ceiling. Being alone in the room tugged at her from so many directions. It gave her a chance to make sure her legs worked, which she wasn’t complaining about. That wobbly feeling helped keep her in a pleasant fuzzy afterglow... it might have been a lot more pleasant if he were still with her. A good reminder it was time to close the door on whatever happy emotions she had and lock them away where they belonged.
She walled off her heart, ignoring the throb behind her ribs, and sat up. How long would it take Jonathan to remember he didn’t have dry clothes to wear? She grabbed some things from her dresser and wandered into the bathroom, to clean up. He’d draped their wet items over the shower rod. The sight made her smile. Fortunately, the washroom was at the back of the house, so tossing his things in the dryer gave her another few minutes to collect her thoughts.
After taking care of that, she dressed and grabbed an extra pair of shorts and a T-shirt from her bottom drawer. Voices floated into the room, and she frowned. Was he talking to someone? That wasn’t Jonathan. It sounded muffled. No, he was watching TV. Something about that bothered her. She padded toward the noise, and stalled in the doorway when she realized what had his attention. The Weather Chanel.
“Sorry.” He didn’t look up from the screen. “I couldn’t get a signal on my phone, and I had to see...” He shook his head and stood. The only thing covering him was a towel around his waist. “I’ll get started on dinner.” Tension that wasn’t there before ran through his voice, and his gaze drifted back to the screen every time he started to look away.
They were showing radar images of the area. The hurricane had been upgraded again in the last few hours, to a Category 4. The tip of it had caused flash flooding throughout the Keys, including overtaking some of the smaller bridges, and wind tore older structures down as it gusted north. “Looks like I’ll be here for at least a couple more days, regardless of my plans.” His words were strained, and she suspected it wasn’t all caused by the possible loss of access to work.
Was he paler, or was that a side effect of the lighting? Over the last thirty years or so, she’d ridden out a lot of hurricanes. Like most locals, she was unfazed by them. There was one that still haunted her dreams, though. When they were thirteen, it happened a lot like this. The weather saidno big deal, and she’d never seen a big storm. She convinced Jonathan they didn’t need to go home yet, and despite his parents calling for him, she and Jonathan stayed out on the beach and in the ocean, playing.
“Hey. I grabbed you some clothes.” She nudged his arm, to distract him from the news.
He took the shorts and T-shirt but didn’t look away from the TV. “Thanks.”
She could almost guarantee what was going through his mind. The same thing she saw in her head. Back then, the storm drove in quickly, the wind picking up and turning splashes to roaring waves that slammed into the sand. He got swept up in them, and by the time rescuers pulled him out, he wasn’t breathing. Despite how long ago it happened, the memory still terrified her. Was it doing the same to Jonathan? It took almost a minute to bring him back with CPR. Bailey’s parents didn’t try and pull her from his side. He and she spent the night in the local clinic, listening to Jonathan’s parents scream at Nana about teaching the kids to be irresponsible, and threatening to never let Jonathan see her again.
When his family left a few days later, Bailey was terrified she’d never see him again.
She dragged herself back to the now. “Hurricane party?” Her chipper tone sounded tinny and false when it hit her eardrums. “I’ve got tequila and sweet-and-sour mix.”
“No drinking.” He gave her half his attention. As soon as the anchor said something about eighty-mile-an-hour gusts driving into the coast, he snapped his head back to the news.
She tugged at his arm, to prompt him to turn toward her. “Get dressed, at least.”
“Right.” He shook his head and focused on the clothes. “Am I wearing another guy’s leftovers?”
“They’re mine.” She took the opportunity to grab the remote and turn off the TV.
“I want that on in the background.”
