Three Little Words

“Stop,” he said quietly. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

She blinked at him.

“I can feel you withdrawing,” he told her. “Don’t do that. Stay with me.”

“I’m here,” she assured him.

She could see he was worried. There was tension in his shoulders. He was frustrated by what he didn’t know and too much of a gentleman to push for an answer. An impossible situation. She didn’t know how he stood it.

Not knowing what else to do, she closed the distance between them and put her hands on his chest. “Kiss me.”

He wrapped his arms around her and obliged.

As always his mouth was firm but gentle. His lips claimed hers with restrained passion. He wanted her, but he wouldn’t push. He wouldn’t take. When he moved his tongue against her lower lip, she parted for him.

With the first stroke, she felt the burning heat of arousal between her thighs. Her br**sts ached. She wanted to tell herself it was because she hadn’t had sex in what felt like forever. But she knew that wasn’t the reason. The real reason was she hadn’t made love with someone she liked in years. Not since she was much younger and willing to trust.

He drew back. “Stop it,” he told her. “Stop going away.”

He felt that? Could sense her mind drifting?

“I can’t help it,” she admitted, unsettled by his ability to read her. She both wanted more and was terrified by the implications. “You frighten me.”

“Not possible. How can I do that?”

She turned back, aware her emotions had come to the surface. Control seemed tenuous at best. But this was Kent and she couldn’t lie.

“You like me,” she admitted. “You know as much as I’ve ever let anyone see and you like me.”

He looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

She waved at him, indicating his face and his body. “This is who you are. You have flaws and good qualities. Your life is predictable. You call your mother, give to charity. I’ve been trained to reveal nothing. To give the appearance of being someone I’m not. I survived by being tough.”

“Not exactly pillow talk, but okay.” He stepped toward her. “I trust you, Consuelo. You’re right. I like you a lot. You’re complicated, but I can deal.”

There it was. Acceptance. He knew there were secrets and he didn’t care. He trusted her.

She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. That she wasn’t trustworthy. Only she knew in her gut that she would never do anything to hurt this man. She couldn’t. It would be easier to cut out her own heart.

Walking away was the easy answer, she thought. So simple and what she knew. The harder path was to stay.

She glanced at the stairs, then back to him. Without saying anything, she took his hand.

She led him to the main floor and then down the hall to the master. Once there, she closed the door and turned on the lamp by the bed. Then she faced him.

A half smile tugged at his lips. He stood by the bed, his stance relaxed, his posture straight. As if he had all the time in the world.

She’d worn a long-sleeved knit dress and high heels. She stepped out of the heels, then undid the side zipper and let her dress drop to the carpet. That left her wearing a push-up bra and a thong.

Kent’s eyes widened. She watched him swallow, try to speak then shake his head.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

She laughed, feeling the last of her concerns fall away as easily as the dress. Maybe there were issues she had to deal with, but that was for another time. Right now she wanted to make love with Kent. She wanted his hands on her body and his tongue in her mouth. She wanted to stop thinking and start feeling.

She put her hands on her h*ps and tilted her head. “Well?”

“Okay, then.”

He unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt and shrugged out of it. Shoes and socks followed. He was in good shape. Not overly honed like the men she worked with, which she liked. Kent looked like what he was. A suburban dad with a sexy edge, she thought, as a shiver of desire slipped through her.

He stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in surprisingly small briefs. The dark cotton fabric sat low on his h*ps and barely contained his impressive erection. The muscles deep in her belly clenched.

“I would have guessed white,” she said, pointing to the briefs and walking toward him.

“I think these are more fashion forward.”

She laughed and continued moving until she was nearly touching him, but not quite.

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” he said, staring into her eyes. “And your body. Jeez. Can I just...”

He hesitated, as if not sure asking was okay.

“Anything,” she said, curious as to what he would touch first.

His hands settled on her hips, then slowly, so slowly, circled around to her butt. He cupped the muscled curve and squeezed. His eyes drifted closed as his fingers dug in deep.

She leaned into him. From what she’d observed, men fell into one of three categories. Breasts, butts or legs. As she was short and small busted, she was left with a great ass. Looked as though she’d found the right guy to appreciate it.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. He bent down and kissed her. She parted immediately, welcoming his tongue with her own. She tilted her head, wanting him to kiss her deeper, and he obliged.

He moved his hands up her back to her bra. He unfastened it easily and the small lacy garment fell away.

She eased back and brought his hands to her breasts. “So you weren’t lying about what happened in high school.”

He brushed his thumbs over her tight nipples. “I gave lessons on how to unfasten a bra one-handed. I’m out of practice. I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

Before she could answer, he eased her back toward the bed. She settled on the mattress, and he moved next to her. He leaned over her and kissed her again. As his tongue teased her own, he put his hand on her belly. He traced her rib cage before exploring her breasts. He cupped the modest curves and then used his thumb and forefinger to rub her tight, sensitive nipples.

She arched her back just a little, wanting more of that. Kent read the signal. He kissed his way down her throat, nipped the skin right above her collarbone, then settled his mouth over her breast.

He drew her nipple in gently and circled it with his tongue, then withdrew slightly and blew on her damp flesh. She shivered with delight.

“How do you like it?” he asked, before licking her other nipple. “Hard? Soft? Something in between?”

The question stumped her for a second. For so long sex had been about a mission, about getting information. If there was any pleasure, that was incidental, and often accidental. But this was different. This was about sharing.

“Harder than you were doing,” she told him. “Just go for it and I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He glanced at her and grinned. “You just keep getting better and better.”

He settled his mouth on her breast again, sucking harder. As he drew in, he used his hand to rub the other nipple, to mimic the actions of his mouth. His teeth lightly grated against her tender flesh, taking her to the place where pleasure grew until it was a hairbreadth from pain. But before she could stop him, he’d backed off. Just enough.

He repeated his actions, arousing her until she squirmed with the desire for more.

“Kent,” she breathed. “I need you.”

He reacted more quickly than she would have thought possible. One second she was getting desperate, then next her thong was flying through the air and his fingers were exploring the very heart of her. He slipped through her swollen, slick flesh, found her clitoris and circled it.

His pace could only be called masterful, she thought, opening her legs wide and letting him take control. Fast enough to keep her on the road to cl**ax, but not so fast she felt rushed. He pressed over and around, every now and then pushing just a little harder, getting to the very core of those sensitized nerves.

Her breathing came quicker. It had been so long, she thought, her mind starting to shut down. She needed this, needed to have him push her over the edge.

Muscles tensed as he went around and around. She pumped her h*ps in time with his movements, her breathing quickened. He shifted, replacing his fingers with his thumb, then slipping two fingers inside her.

On the second stroke, she felt herself starting to cl**ax. The unexpected speed shocked her nearly as much as the intensity. It was as if every cell participated, filling with tension and then releasing. She felt herself cry out and couldn’t quiet the sound. He kept touching her and she kept coming, and maybe for the first time ever, she wasn’t in control.

At last she was done. Kent withdrew his fingers but kept touching her lightly. She didn’t know what to think, what to say. She was drained and embarrassed, yet completely under his spell.

She finally opened her eyes and saw him watching her with an expression of pride and worship that touched the deepest, loneliest place in her heart. His arms came around her, and she went into his embrace, secure in the knowledge she would be safe there.

“I’m pretty sure I said ‘holy shit’ already,” he told her, one hand stroking her back, the other settling on her butt. “So saying it again makes me boring. But my mind is mostly blank, and that’s the best I can come up with. You’re amazing. I want to keep doing that. Only I have other things I want to do, and I don’t know which to do first.”

She pressed her belly against his swollen cock. “I think we should start with this.” She raised her head and smiled. “I want to be on top.”

His erection surged as soon as she said the words, and he was already scrambling out of his briefs. But instead of lying down, he touched her cheek.

“There, uh, hasn’t been anyone in a while. So this isn’t going to be my finest performance. Just so you aren’t disappointed.”

She smiled and kissed him. “I’m still having aftershocks. Disappointment isn’t possible.”

She pushed him onto his back, then looked at him. As he’d said, there were a lot of things they could do. Different positions and techniques she’d picked up over the years. But that was for later. Right now she just wanted to feel him inside her and please him as much as he’d pleased her.

She straddled his waist, then eased back slowly. He reached between them and guided himself in one hand, while holding her hip with the other. She pressed back and down until he was inside her. They both gasped.

He filled her to what felt like her stomach. She straightened, letting her body stretch to accommodate him, then wiggled to accept all of him.

He swore.

She laughed.

“Why don’t you stay like that for a second?” he said, his jaw clenched. “I’ll work on control.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She held in a smile. “But if I do this, is it a problem?”

She raised herself slightly and then settled back down on him. He groaned.

“I can play, too,” he told her.

“You’re trying not to play. That’s different.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he said, his gaze intense. “All right. Let’s see about that.”

He moved his hand between them and pressed his thumb against her swollen clit. But instead of holding still, he circled it against all those suddenly hungry nerve endings.

Five seconds ago she would have sworn she was incapable of coming again for at least twenty-four hours. Suddenly she was breathing fast and desperate.

“Don’t stop,” she said, grinding her h*ps down. “Keep doing that.”

“I swear.” His voice was practically a growl.

He kept his word, rubbing her harder and harder, but suddenly it wasn’t enough. She rose on his penis, then sank down. Her eyes fluttered closed as she rode him, her release tantalizingly out of reach.

“More,” she murmured. “More.”

With each rise and fall, he filled her completely. Friction left her gasping. Again and again. Then it was there and she was so close. So close.

She came with a scream. This orgasm lasted longer than the one before. She leaned forward so she could brace herself on the bed and pump back and forth. At some point Kent wasn’t touching her center anymore. He was holding her hips, helping her keep pace. She opened her eyes and saw him watching her, saw the moment he went over the edge.

They came together. He shoved in deep and she clamped her muscles around him. They stayed like that until they were both still.

With quiet came reality. Consuelo had a vision of herself going up and down, her br**sts pounding, as she screamed for him not to stop.

She’d lost complete control. Twice.

A hand touched her cheek. She forced herself to open her eyes and found him watching her. A self-satisfied smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

“So,” he said. “You’re a screamer.”

She slid off him and lay back on the bed. “I’m not. I’m very quiet and controlled in bed.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I could tell.” He leaned over her and lightly kissed her. “So I was thinking I’d make you come with my mouth, and then we could do it with me behind, because hey, have you seen your ass? Then dinner?”

She felt the moment of choice. Where she could let her past define her or she could give herself to this glorious man. She flung both arms around him and hung on tight.

He pulled her against him and whispered, “You know I like the screaming, right?”

“I know.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ISABEL WALKED THROUGH the empty store next to Paper Moon. It was owned by former champion cyclist Josh Golden, who had spent the past decade buying a measurable percentage of the town. Rumor had it he was a generous landlord, which was good because it wasn’t as if she was swimming in money.