Chapter Twenty-One

Izzy

I think I hurt Hal’s feelings by not saying I’d definitely go with him to Hawke’s Bay. I saw it flicker in his eyes, and I felt a touch of guilt. But I can’t just up and leave on a whim because I’m his flavor of the month. I know—I just know—that I’m not going to be able to keep him. And I don’t want to end up miles from the people and the place I know and love, shut out in the cold because Hal King has a flighty heart.

I believe that, right now, he loves me. His eyes and his words are full of emotion, and I think the notion of being with his best friend appeals to him because he knows, after what happened with Rosie, I wouldn’t cheat on him, and I’d always put him first. He’s tired of her dramatics and he’s finding me restful and uncomplicated. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get bored with me in a month’s time.

I’m prepared for that. And because I’ve got that straight in my mind, I can be with him right now and make the most of the time we have together.

His arms are tight around me, and he tips his head, changing the angle of our kiss so he can delve his tongue into my mouth. Ohhh… he knows how to fire me up. I slide my hands into his hair and tighten my fingers in the short strands, and press up against him, loving the feel of his hard body against mine.

When I was younger, at night I would drift in that hazy world between waking and sleeping and let myself dream about kissing Hal, about letting myself touch him. More often than not I’d end up sliding my hand into my panties and bringing myself to a climax to get rid of the frustrated ache between my thighs. As I’ve grown older though, I’ve trained myself to ignore any sexual feelings I have for him because it made me too sad to see them unfulfilled. Now I can give them full rein, and it’s liberating and thrilling.

He moves me back against the balustrade, sliding his hands beneath the tee to rest on my bare bottom. The cloth of the track pants does little to hide his erection, and as he rocks his hips, it presses right on my sweet spot, making me moan.

“Are we going to do it here?” I ask him, aware that anyone on the beach could see us if they chose to look up the hill.

He chuckles and kisses my neck, his beard scraping my skin. “Have a penchant for exhibitionism do we, Ms. Fitz?”

“No!” I blush, because the thought is exciting, or maybe it’s just the notion of having him in my arms, because I know nothing is going to be taboo where Hal’s concerned. All the things I’ve read about, seen on TV, in movies, are on the table. I can have this man wherever I want, any way I want. Fuck, if that isn’t sexy.

But he’s still chuckling, and he bends and picks me up easily, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me inside. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” he says, amused, ducking to make sure he doesn’t hit my head on the beam as he walks into the house. “Less than twelve hours ago you were still a virgin.”

“I don’t want you to get bored with missionary,” I tell him, tucking in my elbows as he goes through the door toward the bedroom.

He stops for a moment, sighs, and kisses me. “First,” he says as he continues walking, “there are other ways to have sex in bed that don’t involve missionary. And second, and most importantly, I could have sex with you in the missionary position every day for the rest of my life and not get bored with it.”

“Oh.”

“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy,” he says, lowering me onto the bed. He stands, strips off the track pants, then gets on beside me. “When will you believe me?” He pulls me into his arms and kisses me.

I let him, wishing I could, because it’s not fair to keep doubting him when he’s being so loving. I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to trust what he’s saying. Maybe because his track record hasn’t been great, but then I acknowledge that people can change, and he’s definitely grown up; even Fitz said that. I think it’s more something within me that refuses to accept someone could love me. My dad died and left me. My mom didn’t care enough about me to fight her alcoholism. The first man I tried to sleep with was revolted by me. The man I love more than anything in the world has taken eighteen years to tell me he wants me. Yeah, I’m being self-indulgent and unfair, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little wary.

I can’t deny that he wants me now, though. His kisses are demanding, his erection hard, his hands eager to explore me. But, despite his obvious desire, we lie there for ages while we kiss, just enjoying the peace of the morning, the knowledge that we can take as long as we like to play, to arouse each other, to bring each other pleasure.

After a while he rolls me onto my back and kisses down my neck, then over the T-shirt and down to my belly. I tense, waiting for him to push up the tee, but he doesn’t, he continues to press his lips down to my hips, and then he shifts between my legs and pushes them apart, and I realize where he’s heading.

“Hal, no!” I try to pull myself up the bed out of his reach. “I haven’t had a shower!”

He laughs, pulls me back down, and lowers himself between my thighs. “Like that’s going to bother me.”

“Hal!”

But he just dips his head and runs his tongue lightly up my core. The sensation is incredible. I flop back onto the bed and cover my face with my hands, shuddering as he parts my folds for better access. Then he proceeds to circle the tip of his tongue over my clit, and oh holy fuck I think I’m going to melt.

“Oh yeah,” he says, and he brings up a hand to join his tongue, his fingers teasing, sliding inside me a little, and bringing up moisture through my folds that he then laps up with a groan. My face must be scarlet because it’s so hot. I can’t believe he’s doing this, and apparently enjoying it, too. And… oh no… I think I’m going to come, and he’s only been doing it for a minute or two. How embarrassing. I know guys don’t need as much foreplay, but this is ridiculous; I need to learn some serious self-control. But it’s impossible, it’s too sexy, too unbelievably amazing… I lower my hand to his head to push him away, but instead my fingers tighten in the strands, and I can’t stop. I come hard, clenching around his fingers, seven or eight fierce pulses that eventually trail off and leave me gasping.

Hal lifts up, leans over me, and waits for me to open my eyes. He looks amused. “Wow,” he says. “That was quick.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He laughs and leans over to the bedside table to retrieve a condom. “It wasn’t a criticism. I’d have made it last longer but you took me by surprise.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What do you mean, you’d have made it last longer?”

“It’s called edging, or surfing,” he says, rolling on the condom. “Maintaining sexual arousal for an extended period of time without climaxing. The Venus Butterfly technique.” He gives me a mischievous smile.

“You talk as if you’re in control of my arousal,” I say.

“Oh, I am.” He speaks with complete confidence. His eyes look black again.

I give a short laugh. “I didn’t realize you were so arrogant.”

He shrugs. “Only in the bedroom.” With some ease, he rolls so he’s on his back and I’m somehow on top of him.

“I thought yesterday how feral it all is,” I say, somewhat breathlessly, as he maneuvers me so the tip of his erection is just parting my folds.

“Did you now?” He raises his arms and tucks them under his head, stretching out beneath me.

“Mm. I’ve always thought you were a tomcat, but yesterday it was more like…” I think about it. “A male lion mounting his mate.”

“Can you stop being a vet for one minute?”

“Not easily.” I suddenly realize he’s waiting. “You want me to…”

He nods slowly. “Yes, Izzy. When you’re ready. Nice and slow. You’re still very tight and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You shouldn’t be so big,” I grumble, moving my hips and closing my eyes as I feel him begin to penetrate me.

“Not a complaint I’ve had before.” His voice is husky, and when my eyelids flutter open, I see him watching the point where his erection is beginning to disappear inside me.

I lower a hand between us and feel what he’s seeing. Ohhh… that’s so erotic, no wonder it’s turning him on to watch. I’m wet and swollen, but I feel a bit nervous again, and I need to counter that because I’m a little sore down there.

I inhale deeply and let it out real slow, thinking of yoga, forcing my muscles to relax as I push down. Then I do what he did the night before; I rock my hips back and forward, long slow thrusts, slowly coating him with my moisture. Each time he goes a little deeper. After the first few times he closes his eyes, and then his hands come to rest on my hips as I take the last half inch. At least I thought it was; he holds me and pushes up, and I stretch again to accommodate him.

We both groan. “Fucking hell,” he says. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“It’s all those pelvic floor exercises I do in Pilates.” My voice is weak; once again I’m stunned by the sensation of having him inside me.

“Oh, Izzy… whatever you do, don’t stop doing them.”

That makes me laugh, and I rock on top of him, joy flooding me. “You’re inside me, Hal.”

“I know.”

“Ahhh God, I’m so glad we’re mammals and not birds.” Male birds don’t have penises, and there’s no penetration involved when they mate.

It’s his turn to laugh, and he catches my hand and pulls me down to kiss me. “You like feeling feral?”

“I do,” I say fervently, and kiss him, delving my tongue into his mouth. Mmm, this is a nice position, and it’s fun to take control, but I must admit I prefer him being on top.

He kisses me for a long time, skating his hands up inside the tee to feel my breasts, while I move on top of him, but he must have heard my silent wish because after a while he holds me tightly and then somehow twists, and I’m on my back beneath him. Holding the condom, he withdraws and moves off me, and then he circles his finger in the air, indicating that I should turn over.

I sit up and turn around onto my knees, my heart hammering. Then I stop and look over my shoulder at him for a moment. He tips his head to the side. “What?”

Without saying anything, I take the T-shirt by the hem and lift it over my head. I do it quickly, before I can think better of it.

Hal moves to help, and when it’s off, he takes it and tosses it away. I fall onto my front, breathing fast, burying my face in the pillow. I couldn’t even begin to explain how hard it was for me to do that.

I want to be relaxed with him. I want to give myself to him one hundred percent. I want to be like the other women he’s been with; confident and knowledgeable, exciting. I want to be everything to him. Does he understand how much I want that?