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She stopped in the living room to say goodnight to Evie and Claire. Her mother raised an eyebrow at her outfit, and Evie gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up, so she knew she’d hit the right tone. Tonight was a hook-up, plain and simple. Nothing else would work between them. Not just because of geography. There was too much history. Too much mess and not enough time. She squeezed her eyes shut. If only…but there was no point finishing that thought. And why bother? The sex, when they didn’t stuff it up with chit-chat, was knee-wobblingly good. A faint tremor started low in her belly. Kyle inside her. His mouth on her. Hungry kisses and big warm hands touching all over, making her melt. She was going to be soaking wet before she made it down the road at the rate her mind was going.
Kyle stood in the middle of his house. After having a quick shower and putting clean sheets on the bed, he wasn’t sure what to do next. Candles and wine had been too much the night before. Laney had asked about dessert. Should he unlock the door and just wait for her in bed? And why the hell was he so nervous? He decided to pull the cheesecake out of the fridge and leave it on the island along with a bowl of grapes and bottles of wine, Canadian Club, and sparkling water. Cover all the bases.
Laney’s headlights flared through the window.
At the door, she silenced his greeting with a light, breathless kiss and stepped past him. She wore an impossibly short skirt and sexy as hell boots, and once he took her coat, he could see the outline of her bra and something shiny through her shirt. She was breathtaking. He opened his mouth to tell her just how gorgeous she was when she stepped close and pressed her finger against his lips. She handed him a folded up piece of paper.
Talking is overrated. Let’s see how we do communicating with our bodies instead.
He raised an eyebrow, and she returned the expression with impish challenge. One he would accept, no question. She was all long legs, feisty heat and naughty promises. He couldn’t resist.
He extended his hand and she laced her fingers into his, letting him lead her into the living room. The silence was weird, but he’d do anything to keep that secret smile on Laney’s face. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and thumbed through his playlists quickly, looking for something country. She used to love Faith Hill, which he didn’t have, but hopefully the albums he’d downloaded over the holidays would be an acceptable soundtrack for the night. He set his phone on the speaker docking station on the side table and tugged Laney into his arms as the first strum of guitar filled the room. She trembled, and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to want more than what was right in front of him. Everything I’ve ever wanted.
Everything he let slip away, too long ago.
And it wasn’t that he’d fumbled. Fights happened. Mistakes happened.
It was that he hadn’t even tried to catch her as she pulled away. He didn’t go to her when he had all the chances in the world. Didn’t read her emails, not that there’d been that many.
Like more would have made a difference?
And here she was, tonight, by some small miracle, and he wasn’t happy with that. Never enough.
Mother fu—the realization hit him like a Mack truck, and he tensed his hands on her gently rocking hips.
Laney looked up at him, her eyes soft with appreciation. She crinkled her brow, questioning whatever she saw on his face, and he shut the door on his dwelling.
She was enough.
A week with Laney had filled him with happiness in a way that work, his house, even his friends and family didn’t. In a way his two years alone certainly hadn’t. He hadn’t been unhappy, not by a long shot, but this was...transcendent.
He didn’t know what the future would hold, but tonight, he’d hold Laney, and it would be enough.
Her lips curved, pleased with the changing look in his eyes, maybe, and she tucked her head against his shoulder. The air was still thick with all that they couldn’t talk about.
Fear.
History.
Distance.
But as she wrapped her arms around his neck and they swayed together, their earnest desire for each other won out and he let his hands roam down her supple body.
His palms cupped her bottom, and she lifted her hips in response, pressing his erection into her belly, and he had to wrap one arm around her waist to keep them both upright as her back arched. He kissed her lips, then her jaw, neck and collarbone, and as his mouth travelled south, so too did his other hand, curling under the hem of her skirt. He was rewarded with delicious bare skin at the top of her thigh, and he made a mental note to tell her just how hot those stockings were once they were allowed to speak. He stroked around to her hip, then held his palm there against the edge of her underwear. She got to set the ground rules, he would set the pace.
He had three goals. Get lost in Laney, make it last all night, and not think about the fact that they were on borrowed time to get this right. Her leaving Wardham thinking that she was better off without him, again, ripped a jagged tear through his guts. That she was leaving was crystal clear, but he wanted it to be on good terms. Friendly terms. Maybe ones with benefits.
The music changed to a slower ballad. He slid both hands to cup her face and brushed her lips with his, more a promise than a full out kiss. She swayed against him, and he realized she was dancing. He smiled, and she must have felt it against her mouth, because she opened her eyes and leaned her head back a bit. Her gaze roamed over his face, and whatever she saw, she liked, because she gave him a dazzling smile. Yeah, he could dance for a bit.
He shifted their bodies so he could move them as one. His hands on her hips, his knee between her legs. He thought about the exposed tops of her thighs spreading open and his erection pulsed. As if he needed any reminding about where his cock wanted to be. But he wanted to savour the anticipation. Smell her hair and wonder what the shiny thing was under her top. Let her shimmy against him until she broke her own rule and begged him to move to the bed.
A wet tongue at the base of his neck tested that resolve. Maybe their shirts could go. He tugged at Laney’s top first, giving her the silent instruction. While she pulled it over her head, he threw off his own henley and then reached for her hands, tugging them to his own waist before he palmed her hips again. He clenched his abs under her cool touch, and she responded with even lighter circles, tickling him until he lost whatever small bit of rhythm he’d pretended to have. He hoisted her up in his arms and tossed her onto the couch with a growl and she giggled. That lilting laugh undid him every time, and he fell to his knees beside the couch, curving over her pale, soft body to scatter kisses on her stomach.
Her boots were next to capture his attention, and he easily lifted one leg, then the other, unzipping and tossing the footwear into a dark corner of the room. Her skirt hitched up, well above the tops of her stockings, and in the shadow of his body, black boy shorts were the only scrap of fabric left between him and nirvana. He grazed her skin with his palm, fingers settling comfortably into the space between the tops of her thighs. She arched into his touch, and he watched her face soften as she gave herself over to longing. They didn’t need words for him to know what she was asking.
Their breathing slowed at the same time. She needed him just as much as he needed her. Her gaze locked onto his, and he exhaled again, louder this time. She squirmed under his fingers as he traced over her fabric covered centre.
She mewled, and with his other hand he pressed a finger to her lips. She smiled under his touch, and he couldn’t hold himself back. He climbed on top of her, his left hand between them, still teasing her core, and scorched her mouth with his. This was a kiss loaded with meaning.
