Читать книгу Indecent Arrangements: Tabloid Affair, Secretly Pregnant! - Julia James, Anna Cleary - Страница 17

HE COULDN’T just kiss her. Not Nate. No. He had to make a point as he did it. Eyes locked with Payton’s—forcing her to watch as he whittled the distance between them, covered her mouth with his and sank into his task with a slow, deliberate pressure. She couldn’t close her eyes or look away. But even as panic licked amongst the flames engulfing her, she held strong. Stoically taking what he gave her, she told herself to enjoy it—that it would be the last. If she could maintain her control here, then she’d have had her cake and eaten it, too—one night with Nate and a lifetime of friendship to follow.

She watched him, watching her.

Gentle suction pulled at her restraint. The back and forth rub of firm masculine lips wore at her resolve. God, he was good. Patient and skilled and, if memory served, just getting started. Her pulse skittered faster, a needy ache throbbed low in her belly. Twisting tight.

Be strong.

Even if holding back nearly killed her, no one actually died from denial.

She could do it. She could outlast this one pleasured assault and walk away from the temptation of more. Secure the friendship she didn’t want to let go.

Keep Nate forever…

And never again feel the stroke of his tongue skimming the tight seam of her lips, pushing her molten core past containment, spilling liquid fire through her veins.

Oh, God, she couldn’t—shouldn’t.

His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, wound and pulled with a tension so deliciously forbidden there was nothing to do but open on a trembling gasp. And then he was sliding into her mouth—hot and wet—in a slow, measured thrust and retreat that wiped her mind of anything beyond more. Having as much of this kiss as she could for as long as he gave it.

His mouth angled, taking them deeper. Taking more. Taking everything.

She could still stop. Still have the security. Have what they’d had all those years before. Memories rose to fight each decadent thrust of his tongue: Nate with his arm around her as they watched TV on the couch; raking the yard with her; leaning over her shoulder to help with her homework; laughing, with his head back and eyes shut over some dumb joke.

Friendly memories. Warm.

Only there was a constant through each and every one she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge until now. As she’d laughed alongside him or taken his assistance with a grateful smile, through it all she’d been fantasizing about—aching for—a moment like the one she resisted now. Where Nate wanted more.

And in that instant she realized if she did the “right thing”, took the safe path, she’d be doing exactly what she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Living a lie. Pretending to be a friend when she wanted to be a lover. Forcing herself into a mold that didn’t fit.

She blinked, once, twice. Gave into the heavy weight of her lids and closed her eyes. Gave up her fight against an inevitable hurt and loss in the future and stopped resisting the want and need that was now.

Her eyes closed and her body went lax in his arms. It was as though she’d simply given up and Nate felt the loss of her fight like a blow to the gut.

He shouldn’t care. He never cared. Relationships and whatever came of them were simply what they were. Enjoyable until they weren’t. Always on his terms.

But not this time. This time it was out of his control and driving him nuts.

Didn’t she understand he couldn’t make himself see her in a platonic light? It wasn’t choice firing his blood at the sight of her alone?

Damn, he had to let go, get his head around the fact that he couldn’t have her.

His arms loosened their hold. His marauding mouth eased from its plunder as he drew back to break the kiss—the kiss that wouldn’t break because the lips he’d poured his every skill and desire into had followed his retreat.

His pulse jacked.

Slight hands balled against his chest, released, crept higher and balled again.

Was he reading this right?

He tried to pull back—to see her face—but those slim arms were wrapped around his neck, clutching and clinging tight as her fragile plea shattered against his lips. “Don’t stop.”

His breath rushed out on a groan that was relief and desire and victory all in one, and in a combination so potent it nearly took him to his knees. And then she was alive in his arms, opening wide beneath the crush of his kiss, taking everything he gave and demanding more. Meeting the thrust of his tongue with the stroke of her own so they mingled in a sensual dance that was hot and wet and urgent.

Rhythmic. Erotic.

And not nearly enough. Nothing was enough. No matter how he touched her, how she moaned against his lips, pushed and pulled at his clothing until it hung half free of his limbs, begged with quiet sobs as he worked past her panties, teasing one finger and then two through her slippery arousal, it wasn’t enough. He had to be inside her. Had to have her. Completely.

His body vibrated with need beyond control. Banding his arms across her back, he lifted her from her feet.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth rough against her throat as he moved to the couch.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, her hands grasping at his shoulders. Her knees settling into the leather at either side of him so her skirt rode up her thighs. Opening her to him.

Damn, he could feel her, soft and hot, through the damp swatch of her silk panties.

Pushing violently at his half-open fly, he freed himself, giving into the temptation of that fragile silk barrier. He palmed her bottom and guided her to the bare skin of his shaft. Had to grip the base of the couch when her hands clenched, her body tensing as she slid against the length of him.

“Don’t stop…” she breathed again, her words taking on a desperation that only fed the madness burning within his veins. Her hair hung wild and loose around her face, her breasts swayed half exposed from when they’d wrestled with the straps of her dress. Her eyes were dark, heavy lidded and pleading as she moved over the straining ridge of his erection. “I can’t stop.”

Too. Much.

Not. Enough.

Reason and restraint snapped. He had her beneath him, her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure that tore through his very soul as he pushed inside.

Wet friction embraced him. Took hold of his sanity and tossed it aside as he drew back and drove deep again, setting a relentless rhythm of triumph and possession.

He had her. Writhing beneath him. Coming apart around him. The clutch of her slick walls urging him to follow. She felt so good…too good…too good…

Nate froze.

Too good.

She felt too good because he wasn’t wearing a condom. Buried inside her, a hair’s breadth from release with the receding waves of Payton’s orgasm pulsing around him, he didn’t dare move.

Control. Where was his control?

His teeth ground together with a series of audible pops as he slowly withdrew. Images of the past six months sliding through his mind, gripping him like icy talons. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Nate?” Her hands smoothed down his chest, her eyes searching. Taunting him with a welcome he couldn’t accept. Yet.

“Condom, Payton,” he managed on a hoarse growl as he found the foil packet he’d never forgotten before.

“Thank God you remembered.” She shook her head, watching him as if he’d managed something remarkable. Well, he’d stopped in time. That was pretty damn remarkable. But the fact that he’d been inside her at all—

Never before. He’d never lost it like that. Never come so close to losing everything.

Never again.

Covering himself, he reached for her. “Now where were we?”

An hour later, they lay sprawled across Nate’s bed, naked beneath a blanket of moonlight. Payton traced patterns across his skin, circling this way and that. Her touch was light. Sweetly exploratory. And arousing all too soon after they’d collapsed together mere minutes before.

This was the point where he typically employed some trusty exit or eject strategy, but tonight the foundation of caring and history he had with Payton was throwing him off. Nothing within his arsenal of disentanglement techniques suitably handled the unprecedented situation with a woman whom was both lover and friend and who he had no intention of letting go. At least not any time soon.

Tucking his chin, he watched her fingertips walk the steps of his ribs, climb higher and then smooth across the center of his chest.

Maybe there wasn’t anything to handle at all. So long as he used his head and a measure of restraint, no one would get hurt.

Yes, he wanted her. Had nearly lost it when he thought he couldn’t have her. But even so, he knew himself—the kind of love that led to marriage and family wasn’t part of his makeup, and this wouldn’t last forever.

As though reading his mind, Payton turned her eyes, soft and vulnerable, to his. “What are we doing?” she asked quietly. “You didn’t want a relationship. You told me. So what is this?” Her question held no accusation, challenge or demand, just a need to know something he didn’t have the understanding to explain.

“No, I didn’t. But nothing turns out the way I expect with you. I think I know how something’s going to play and then suddenly I’m staring open-mouthed at a scenario I couldn’t have predicted. This, what’s between us—” he shook his head “—it’s not common in my life.”

“Mine either. But since neither of us seemed able to ignore it, let’s just enjoy it for as long as this lasts.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he saw the flicker of sadness—remorse maybe—that crept into her eyes. He wanted to make it go away. Only he couldn’t lie to her. Promise something they both knew wouldn’t happen.

What he could offer was the possibility of a scenario he very much hoped would become reality. He ran a finger along her jaw and tipped her face to his. “You know, just because we’re detouring through the jungle now, it doesn’t mean there won’t be a chance to veer back onto the main drag later.”

The fact that it hadn’t happened before didn’t guarantee it never would. This was Payton, after all, and the power of her optimistic determination knew no bounds.

She blinked up at him, her big brown eyes so wide with trust, once again taking him back through the years to a time when she was the only one who saw the potential in him—to her limitless faith.

He didn’t want to let her down. He’d almost done it tonight. Almost let them both down.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Payton, but I’ll always care for you.”

She nodded, letting her smile spread. “Then how about we forget about what might happen? Let the future take care of itself and, for now, we’ll have fun.”

She deserved better.

He couldn’t give it to her but neither could he let her go. So he shoved the bitter knowledge aside, focusing instead on the now. Payton in his bed. Smiling. Sexy and bare.