Maid of Dishonor Page 8
‘Think again, Gina,’ he interrupted. ‘Because you’re not going anywhere until you do.’
She sucked in a breath, trying to remain patient and sensible, and stave off a hissy fit.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice tight with the effort to sound conciliatory. ‘I realise you’re still extremely aroused...’ She flicked her gaze to his crotch and heat crept up her neck at the sight of the magnificent erection. ‘And that’s obviously partly my fault...’
‘Partly?’ he interrupted, giving an incredulous laugh.
She looked away as the heat hit her cheeks. For Pete’s sake, was she actually blushing? She never blushed.
‘Okay, fine, mostly my fault,’ she added, in the interests of complete disclosure. Because she’d never been coy either. ‘But that doesn’t mean I have to sleep with you if I don’t want to.’
He cursed. ‘Give me some credit here. I’m not a kid, any more. I do have some control. And I would never expect any woman to sleep with me if she didn’t want to—no matter how aroused she’s gotten me. I may not be the gentleman my mama raised me to be, but I’m not that much of jerk.’
‘Okay, good,’ she said, relief flowing through her. He sounded more affronted than angry. Not that she cared if he was angry, she told herself staunchly; she’d never had a problem dealing with male tantrums. But right now she felt too exposed to relish dealing with one from him. ‘Then I’d like to leave.’
She waited, but, instead of releasing her, he began to stroke his thumbs back and forth over the skin beneath her ribs, in a light caress that sent darts of sensation places she really didn’t want them.
‘Carter, let go of my waist,’ she said, breathlessly.
‘Not until I get an explanation. What made you change your mind?’
She couldn’t tell him that. Would never tell him that. Because it would mean revealing something she had decided a long time ago he had never really been a part of. The pregnancy had been an accident, a biological blip, that had ended almost as soon as it had begun—and forced her to re-evaluate who she was and what she was. But she’d come out the other side. She hadn’t thought about it in years. And if she could get away from him, she wouldn’t have to think about it now.
She sent him what she hoped was a bored look. ‘It doesn’t seem spontaneous any more. And I’m really not that turned on now.’
‘You’re really not, huh?’ His mouth curled on one side and she saw the sceptical gleam in his eye. ‘Why are you lying?’
‘I’m not.’
She’d always been an exceptionally convincing liar—after all, she’d had a lot of practice in her teens—but unfortunately as she said the words her lungs seized as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of them at once—and the denial came out on an unconvincing hum.
‘How about we test that theory?’ His voice deepened as his hands stroked down her naked thighs and gripped her knees.
‘If you were any kind of a gentleman, you’d take my word for it,’ she murmured, pushing the words out past the constriction in her throat as he parted her legs. A move she appeared powerless to resist as her centre throbbed in anticipation.
‘That’s true enough.’ His thumbs blazed a trail of goosebumps, caressing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as his hands headed back towards heaven. ‘And if you were any kind of a lady, you wouldn’t lie about it.’
‘I’m not lying.’ Those damn thumbs angled across the juncture of her legs, and caressed—back and forth, back and forth—making the protest compete with the telltale hitch in her breathing.
Kneeling in front of her, he pushed her thighs wider and let his thumbs touch the slick swollen folds. She braced her hands on the bed, let her head fall back and struggled to breathe as all thought, all feeling, all memory burned away in a blaze of lust.
‘There now. You seem to like that well enough, sugar.’
She could hear the arrogance and the amusement and she would have objected, but all she cared about now was concentrating on the heat, and forgetting the rest. The orgasm fluttered towards her on soaring wings as he used his thumbs to hold her open and then licked at the heart of her.
She sobbed, the sound echoing back at her off the room’s hard, designer surfaces. Then he fastened his lips on her swollen clitoris and sucked. She screamed. Soaring straight into the cosmos.
The orgasm slammed into her, radiating out through her belly, her breasts, her fingers and toes. She collapsed back on the bed as he stood above her. He grabbed the foil packet, ripped it with his teeth, rolled on the condom, then sat on the bed and hauled her up, to straddle his lap.
She held onto his shoulders as his hands cupped her buttocks and positioned her over the huge erection.
‘I want to be inside you, Gina.’ The naked need in his eyes matched the strain in his voice, the tendons standing out on his neck, and sweat slicking his brow. But still he held her poised above him, and made no move to take her. ‘Don’t make us wait any longer.’
She impaled herself in one smooth stroke—the staggering fullness making her head snap back, her fingers clutch at his shoulders. And then she began to move. Rising up, sinking back, the intimate stroking touching that place deep inside that only he had ever reached.
‘That feels so damn good,’ he coaxed, urging her on, guiding her movements, the wild ride racing them both towards oblivion.
She cried out, her nails digging into muscle, her breathing ragged, the exquisite pleasure becoming too close to pain as she hurtled over—with him this time.
* * *
Gina let the blissful fatigue of afterglow wash over her as she collapsed on top of his big body.
Carter Price hadn’t been boasting. He’d certainly perfected his technique since their first merry meeting, not to mention his stamina.
‘Damn, woman. That was something else,’ he murmured as he swept the curtain of her hair away from his face, and kissed her.
‘Hmm,’ she hummed in agreement, rolling off him.
She let out a weary laugh at his heartfelt moan as she crawled up the bed, her arms and legs more than a little shaky.
‘Hey, come back here,’ he declared, as he hauled himself up. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Nowhere at the moment,’ she replied as she flopped back onto the pillows, her whole body pleasantly numb. ‘You’ve rendered me senseless.’
‘Then we’re even.’
She lay back on the stack of plump pillows, gazed out of the glass wall, and tracked the tiny lights of the tourist boats plying their trade across the bay. How foolish to think that this had ever been about anything other than sex.
Carter joined her, dragging the quilt folded over the foot of the bed up to cover them, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders to draw her to his side.
She would have objected to the possessive gesture. She generally didn’t snuggle after sex. But she let it pass for now, because she wasn’t entirely sure she was capable of coordinated movement. And he smelt delicious.
She rested her head on his shoulder as his arm tightened. And took in a lungful of that unique scent. Soap and pheromones and man, now layered with the tangy aroma of sex. She squeezed her thighs together, a little disturbed by the renewed pulse of arousal.
No way. She couldn’t have another orgasm tonight. Or she’d pass out. Plus she needed to consider leaving soon.
His fingers delved into her hair, lifting and separating the strands and making her scalp tingle. ‘So now we’ve got proof,’ he murmured, the words low and intimate in the dark room.
‘Proof of what?’ she asked, around a huge yawn.
‘Proof our first time was no fluke.’
She stiffened, not liking where this might be leading. Or the confidential tone of his voice. ‘It wasn’t my first time, remember,’ she said. ‘It was yours.’
She tapped her fingers on his chest. ‘Hung up about what?’
‘You know what. That you were my first.’
‘That’s ridiculous, of course I’m not,’ she said, but could hear that telltale hitch in her breathing. Damn, why couldn’t she lie around Carter with any conviction? It was as if he had injected her with truth serum.
He remained silent for a while, making her wonder if maybe she’d got away with it, but then he said, ‘It wasn’t that big a deal back then, and it sure isn’t any kind of deal now.’
She levered herself up, stared down into his handsome face. ‘Then why were you getting all sentimental about “our first time” a minute ago?’ She did air quotes.
His lips quirked, the sensual smile making her heart flip over in her chest. Damn it, why did he have to be so ludicrously sexy?
‘You mistake me, Gina.’ He bunched her hair at the back of her neck and gave it a tug, forcing her head back and making her breasts more accessible. He covered one with his palm. ‘That wasn’t sentiment.’ His gaze drifted to her breast as he toyed with the nipple. ‘That was purely an observation about our sexual compatibility.’
‘I see...’ The tension coiled in her abdomen as he rose up on his elbow, forcing her back into the pillows. She gasped as he captured the beaded nipple with his lips and drew it into his mouth. The hot flow of lust and endorphins charged into her sex, making her arch off the bed and the still tender spot between her thighs throb painfully. ‘Carter, stop,’ she hissed, her hands fisting on the bed sheets. ‘I really can’t do it again so soon...’
And how on earth could he?
‘Sure you can,’ he countered, before getting back to the business of proving her wrong.
SIX
Gina winced at the blast of light on her retinas, before awareness of the big body wrapped around hers yanked her the rest of the way out of dreamland. Slow, steady breathing stirred the hair on the back of her head, a heavy forearm lay across her midriff, and something indisputably long and solid nestled against her backside.
Good grief, I’m spooning with Carter Price—and he’s hard as a rock. Again!
The memory of the torrid hours they’d spent before dawn came tumbling back. The man had the stamina and fortitude of a prize stallion—and he’d learned a great deal, in the years since she’d popped his cherry. She dismissed the foolish punch of her pulse at the realisation that while she might have been Carter’s first, she certainly hadn’t been his last.
No wonder she felt limp and sated—she edged across the mattress, testing the tender spot between her thighs—and frankly rather sore.
The heavy forearm tightened as a large hand cupped her breast and gave it a friendly squeeze. ‘Morning, sugar.’
The husky murmur, heavy with sleep, had her shifting round to glance over her shoulder.
‘You’re awake?’ With his eyes closed, his wavy hair delightfully rumpled, what looked like a two-day shadow on his jaw and his mobile mouth sporting the hint of a smile, it was hard to tell.
One eyelid lifted, the cobalt-blue gleaming in the light from the bay. His lips twisted into the full megawatt smile. ‘Can’t you tell?’ His erection nudged her bottom.
She laughed, a little nervously. ‘Forget it, Rhett. After the night we had, I’m not going to be operational for at least a week.’
The warm palm strayed from her breast to curl over her hip and stroke. ‘You sure about that?’
She wasn’t, not in the slightest, if the heat surging through her was anything to go by, but she didn’t plan to negotiate. Because where Carter was concerned, her will power came a very poor second to her libido. And unfortunately he knew it, from the wicked grin as the stroking hand migrated to her backside.
Swiping his hand away, she flung the quilt back and bolted off the bed. ‘I have to get going.’ She checked the clock on his bedside table. ‘I’m meeting the Awesomes at a bridal boutique in Brooklyn at eleven for a bridesmaid’s fitting and I can’t be late.’
‘Now who’s the spoilsport?’ He propped himself on the pillows.
She scooped her now hopelessly wrinkled dress off the floor and held it over her nakedness, a little too aware of his patient watchful gaze as she hunted up the rest of her clothing.
‘Do you mind if I use your shower?’ she asked, ignoring the sizzle in her breasts as he tucked a folded arm behind his head, apparently settling in to enjoy the show.
‘Sure. You want company?’
‘Better not,’ she said quickly as the sizzle went into overdrive and she grabbed her bra from its resting place hooked onto the corner of the room’s huge plasma TV. ‘I can’t imagine sharing a shower with you will be particularly time efficient.’ She spotted the remains of her Indian lace knickers and picked them off the satellite console. Heat flushed through her at the memory of Carter ripping them off her the night before.
‘Damn it.’
How on earth was she going to explain a complete absence of underwear to her pals in the changing room? It was already nine-fifty. She didn’t have time to get all the way back to her apartment in Red Hook. Maybe she could stop off at a department store on the way to the Manhattan Bridge Overpass District, where Amber’s boutique was situated? Or have a quiet word with Reese’s friend when she arrived? Did bridal boutiques sell emergency underwear?
‘Will my sister be there?’
She stared at Carter, momentarily confused by the question until he added, ‘Could you get her to give me a call? We need to set up a meet while I’m in town.’
And then the stupidity of what she’d done hit her right between the eyes—like a cold hard slap, knocking the breath out of her lungs and making the back of her neck feel as if someone had yanked out all the small hairs.
The remains of her knickers dropped from her numbed fingers.
After six months of celibacy—and confining herself to the automative delights of Justin, her trusty vibrator—she’d come tumbling off the wagon with the one man guaranteed to screw up the friendship she’d spent most of the summer trying to repair.
Not that she hadn’t considered this last night. Fleetingly, and through a haze of hormones.... But now, suddenly, it didn’t feel nearly so defensible. Of course it wasn’t any of Marnie’s business who her brother slept with, especially now that Carter was a free man and no longer bound in matrimony to Marnie’s best friend—and she very much doubted that even if Marnie knew about what they’d spent the night doing together she would make a fuss. She was far too mature and pragmatic and, well, polite for that.
But sleeping with Marnie’s big brother again suddenly felt hopelessly tacky and immature.
It wasn’t exactly a great way to restore Marnie’s trust in her as a person and as a friend.... Nor would it do much for Marnie’s already rocky relationship with her brother. Which Gina knew had been set on its current course as a result of their first indiscretion ten years ago.
‘What’s the matter? Is it the panties?’ Carter asked, then reached for the hotel phone. ‘Don’t sweat it. I’ll order you a new pair.’
‘No, don’t, it’s not that, it’s...’ She blinked at the tattered lace now resting on her big toe. Her stomach began to feel tight and achy, the way it always had in the past when she’d gone too far. She put her hand up, to stop him dialling the concierge. ‘Marnie will be there, at the boutique.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ He didn’t look remotely surprised or concerned as he placed the handset back in its cradle. ‘You said the Awesomes. That’s what you guys used to call yourselves, right? You and Marnie and Reese and the mousy geek girl.’
‘Cassie’s not a geek, she’s just brilliant, and, considering she’s about to marry Sam “Tuck” Tucker, the football player, I’d say mousy is the new
hot.’
And they’d called themselves the Awesome Foursome, because their friendship had been Awesome. Awesome for her at least. Until that year in college, she’d never had any close female friendships—her mother had died when she was so young she didn’t remember her and she’d always seen the other girls at school as competition. But during her year at Hillbrook she’d come to realise how important female friendships could be. And then she’d gone and torpedoed it.
But she wanted it to be Awesome again. Truly awesome. And that meant regaining Marnie’s trust. But how could she do that, if Marnie found out about her and Carter?
‘The NFL quarterback?’ Carter gave a low whistle, sounding impressed. ‘Still waters, huh?’
‘Yes, precisely,’ she muttered, gathering her clothes to her breasts again, when Carter’s gaze dipped noticeably.
‘Damn, are you sure you’ve got to run off? How about I text Marnie, tell her you’re going to be late?’
‘No!’ she yelped, she actually yelped—as all the blood headed out of her brain and exploded into her heart. ‘You can’t do that.’
The crease on his brow became a furrow. ‘Why not? I’ve gotta arrange to meet her some time this week anyhow.’ The sexy smile returned as he reached for the hem of her dress, gave it a playful tug. ‘And it’d give me time to order you up some new panties. And help you wash your hair.’
She yanked the dress out of his fingers. Was he completely insane? ‘You’re not telling Marnie about this. About us. About last night,’ she clarified when he continued to look at her as if she’d just sprouted an extra head. ‘You can’t.’
‘Why can’t I?’
‘Because I don’t want her to know, obviously.’
‘Obviously. my butt. Why don’t you want her to know? It’s not like she doesn’t know I have sex,’ he added, apropos to absolutely nothing.
‘Yes, but she doesn’t know you’ve just had sex with me, does she?’
‘Not yet, she doesn’t.’ He grasped her hand, dragged her back towards the bed. ‘But I don’t plan to keep it a secret. Why would I?’