Chapter Eighteen
Cara was quiet as she wet Travis’s hair with a spray bottle. She didn’t say much, either, as she sat him down in a wooden chair on her deck, under the setting sun. Trying to give voice to the jumbled mess of emotions that darted and dodged and played havoc in her heart was too hard.
She focused on the task at hand. She didn’t want anyone else making him look as handsome as he could possibly be. She was the woman who would make him the top pick. Draping a towel over his shoulders, she began her work. She knew how to manage a basic cut, thanks to her sister.
“How short are you going to go?” he asked. Henry was back at Travis’s house, and Violet was resting on her dog bed inside.
“Marine short. That work for you?”
He craned his neck to look up at her. “Do whatever you think will look good.”
Her heart fluttered ever so briefly from the way his eyes stayed fixed on her for a beat.
“I’m not really going to cut it that short. Just a trim will do,” she said. She planted her feet apart and ran her fingers through his hair. His breath hitched as she touched him. His shoulders tightened, and for some reason his reaction sent goose bumps racing across her skin.
He whispered her name. That was all he said. Nothing more, but it was the low, sexy tone that conveyed some kind of untapped need that made her heart beat wildly.
“I’m glad you’re letting me do this,” she said.
“Me, too. I much prefer your hands on me.”
She reached for the comb she’d placed on the table and grasped a few strands, combing neatly through, and then holding the hair between her fingers. With the scissors in her other hand, she snipped the ends. “I didn’t think it was too long. But I do think this will look nice,” she said, and her voice felt like it was coming from somewhere else, from some woman who was making idle chitchat because she didn’t know how to say the other things. The harder things. She wasn’t entirely sure how to voice all that she felt because she wasn’t even sure what she was feeling, or if this feeling even had a name she could breathe out loud.
She zeroed in on his dark strands, methodically working her way across his head, snipping and cutting, letting the short ends fall to the wooden slats of her deck. He closed his eyes, his lips parted. He looked peaceful and relaxed, like a man enjoying his woman’s touch at the end of the day. For a brief moment she could see days like this unspooling before them—cutting his hair, rubbing his shoulders, making him dinner. All while he fixed the pipe under the sink, kissed the back of her neck, asked how her day was.
Damn, that was a potent vision, and she tried desperately to shake it off, as she’d managed to do the last time it had visited her. Because she couldn’t ask for that, could she? That wasn’t what Stacy had wanted her to do, was it? She zeroed in on simpler matters. She snipped and trimmed the top of his head down to his neck, keeping the sections tight and even. She reached the back of his hair, cleaning up the soft little fuzz on his neck.
“You look good,” she said softly.
“Thank you. I think this is my favorite haircut ever.”
She laughed. “I’m sure.”
“No, it is. You have the magic touch.”
She cupped his shoulders, so tempted to lean in and plant a kiss on his neck, on the top of his head. He reached up and clasped her hand briefly, unleashing a ribbon of heat in her. She finished the back of his head and walked around to face him.
“How do I look?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Hot,” she said with a broad smile. This was easy. She could do this part. The last few weeks had shown her how easily they could be playful and dirty with each other. Saying anything more was riskier.
She leaned forward. “Let me just fix up the front of your hair.”
She inched closer, wedging her leg between his.
“Make sure this part takes a nice long time,” he whispered, his voice dropping low and husky. “I’m enjoying the view.”
She glanced down to realize her breasts were eye level with him. She scooted even closer, and he groaned. “Yeah, definitely the best haircut any man anywhere has ever gotten,” he added.
The heat inside her turned into a fire as he raised his hands to grip her hips. “Travis,” she chided.
“What? You can’t cut my hair with my hands on you?”
“I can,” she said, because she was almost done. He started rubbing his thumbs against her hips. “But I don’t want to slip.”
He stilled his hands as she finished snipping. She stretched across him to set the scissors down on the table. “You might want to take a shower to get all the hair off your neck.”
“Only if you shower with me. Or come and find me in the shower,” he added, reminding her of her fantasy.
“That does sound nice. But do you want me to get you a mirror, so you can see how it looks?”
He shook his head, and in a blur he pulled her down on top of him in the chair, cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I don’t want to see. I don’t care. I just want you,” he said, and then he kissed her neck, blazing a hot trail along her throat, marking her with his lips.
“So take me. Here and now,” she said, because those were the easiest words to say to him. They were wholly true. The other words she had to say were too big, too much to just let slip out unprepared. She needed time to shape them and mold them. And right now, her brain was taking a backseat to her body, so she let her body rule the rest of the day.
She rocked back and forth on him, rubbing against his hard-on through their clothes. Her skirt rode up to her hips. He groaned, and that sexy, needy sound thrilled her. She pressed harder against him, riding the firm ridge through their layers as she straddled him in the deck chair. There was just something so deliciously dirty about a good dry fuck. It was the prelude, the frenzied, fevered build to more. This was a sign of the kind of intensity that two people could have together. To rub, and bump and grind like this—to want to—was some kind of late-night fantasy come true.
She picked up the pace, rocking faster, harder, seeking more friction.
She panted.
He groaned.
A bead of sweat rolled down her neck. Even that seemed fitting for this moment, for this kind of joyride of a summer fling. They were summer. They were the setting sun, blazing against the sky, flaring brightly before burning out. This might be one of their last times, and she intended to enjoy every second of the contact with him.
He smothered her with kisses along the bare skin of her neck, her chest, her shoulders, as she thrust against him, his hard length meeting her heat. The friction between them ignited all the atoms and cells inside her, sending sparks of pleasure on a wild roller coaster spin throughout her body. She gripped his shoulders, riding him like a cowgirl atop her horse.
Closing her eyes, she parted her lips and moaned so loudly she would ordinarily have been embarrassed that such an animalistic noise had come from her. Except, there was no room for embarrassment. She was living in a land of pleasure, and there was only room there for wild abandon.
The crest of an orgasm came into view. “Travis.” His name was a primal cry. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Why?” He gripped her hips; his hold on her was relentless, as if he never intended to let go.
“Because I’m dry humping you. I haven’t done this in years,” she breathed out on a heavy pant, rocking against him.
“Don’t stop ’til you come. You hear me?” His voice was an order.
“Yes.”
“Promise me you’ll keep riding me like this.” Now, a firm command.
“I will.”
He ran his finger over her lips. “Say it,” he said, so in charge of her pleasure, even like this. “Say you won’t stop ’til you’re shouting my name.”
That was all she needed to know. That he was loving this as much as she was. That he wanted to see her get off as badly as she wanted to come. She barely knew who she was with him. One touch, one look, and he had sent her from zero to teetering close in seconds. That’s where she was right now. Skating that fine, ecstatic edge of bliss.
Rubbing against his dick.
Grinding her crotch into his.
“I won’t stop. I promise. I won’t stop ’til I come,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as white-hot bursts streaked through her.
It was like being back in time, when having clothes on didn’t prevent you from getting off, when sometimes the first time you come with someone was when you’re both fully dressed. Maybe that was what felt so deliciously sinful about how close she was to the finish line. Because this was elementary, this was two plus two, this was the ABCs of chemistry. She rocked crazily against his cock, the hard length of him serving as the launching pad, the hungry kisses on her neck the fuel, his hands traveling all over her body the final turn of the ignition. Then his lips dropped onto hers, and he claimed her mouth, kissing her greedily and sending her flying to the other side. Somehow it felt as if his kisses alone were making her come. She cried out in his mouth, moaning and groaning as she rode him under the sun, coming hard like she always had with him.
…
He barely gave her a second to come down from her high. His need for her was too intense, too strong. His bones were vibrating with this overwhelming urge to take her. Watching her writhe and rock on him, like a fire he couldn’t hold on to, was almost too much. His entire body was a cyclone, twisting and curling.
He grasped her hips, stood her up, and tugged off her skirt with superhuman speed. She stepped out of it, and her panties, kicking off her shoes, too. Red-hot desire slammed into him as he looked up at her, savoring the glossy sheen in her beautiful blue eyes, the way they seemed to twinkle in the afterglow of that kind of climax.
“I hope you forgive me for not giving you any time to recover, but I need you now,” he told her.
“I hope you forgive me for being greedy and wanting another one,” she said, her arms crossing over each other in an X as she grabbed the waistband of her red shirt and yanked it over her head. His breath fled his chest at the sight of her nearly naked, wearing only a red lace bra. He’d seen her in the nude so many times in the last few weeks, not to mention countless times in the past, but every moment took his breath away. He stopped to rake his eyes over her, to memorize the curve of her hips, the strength of her legs, her soft, flat belly. As much as the lust ran rampant in his body, he wanted to enjoy these last few times with her. The fireman’s auction ticked closer, and there had been no extension on the lease they’d taken out on each other, so all that was left was milking every last ounce of intensity, of pleasure, of coming together.
“As it turns out, today I am offering a special. Two orgasms for the price of one,” he joked as he rose from the chair to unhook her bra. He slid the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, then simply stared at her beautiful bare breasts released from their enclosure, and her nipples, rosy and inviting his lips. Without looking away, he tossed the bra onto the table and murmured beautiful as he treated each enticing peak to a kiss.
“I didn’t know there was a fee attached,” she said breathily, as her hands darted out to unzip his jeans. He managed to drag his lips away from her breasts to yank off his own shirt and take off his jeans.
“Never. I just wanted you to know what a good deal I am,” he said with a wink, adding his briefs to the pile of clothes.
“I am well aware of the volume of orgasms you can deliver,” she said, as her eyes strayed to his dick. He couldn’t deny that he loved that she checked him out.
“Then place your hands on the door, woman, because you’re about to get a special deal,” he said, and she did as instructed as he snagged a condom from his wallet. Pressing her hands to the glass, she bent her body into an L. She was a vision, all right. Pure, sensual femininity. God, he loved how she had no inhibitions with him. He savored the intensity of her sex drive, how it matched his, how wild and willing she was no matter where they were.
He was so ready to slide into that hot, lush body. He pressed his hands against the soft globes of her ass, his thumbs digging into her flesh. His cock throbbed, aching with the need to fill her, but the sight of her bare glistening pussy was too hard for him to resist.
Change of plans.
“I’m taking a short detour first to my favorite place,” he murmured, dropping to his knees.
He raised her ass higher, dipped his mouth to her cheeks, and kissed that sweet, sexy line between one soft, succulent cheek and her leg. She cried out, a husky moan that had him going in for more. He pressed his mouth against all that delicious wetness between her legs, lapping up the evidence of her first orgasm. She trembled, quivering with each lick, each kiss, each caress of his mouth. He broke contact to issue an instruction. “Spread your legs wider,” he told her, “so I can bury my face in your beautiful pussy. Think you can come again? This time on my face, preferably.”
“I don’t know. But I’m willing to try,” she answered, craning her neck to fix him with a naughty, mischievous grin as she planted her feet farther apart, flattening her back more, the position giving him unfettered access.
“That’s the spirit,” he said, returning to feast on her, licking and lapping her up. She didn’t hold back, she didn’t mute herself. She was loud, she was hungry, she called out his name, she called out God’s name, she cried yes over and over, and he knew that their chemistry was for the record books. That he would absolutely miss these moments, and all the other ones, too, when their brief affair reached its expiration date.
But now was not the time to linger on endings. He had an ending of another kind in mind. An epic finale he wanted to give to her.
She was close, judging from the cries she made, from the way she thrust wildly against his face, and from how her wetness coated his stubbled jaw. She was so slippery that he couldn’t resist sliding a finger inside her, then another, his entire body sparking with desire as she went off like a shot, coming again. He could taste her climax, and it was a drug to him. A heady, beautiful drug that made his brain and body light up.
He slowed his movements, giving her pussy one last kiss before he pulled away to grab the condom.
Then he whipped his head around when he heard a high-pitched voice.
“Let’s play on the swing set!”