Читать книгу Out of the Dark - Меган Харт - Страница 6

Her feet weren’t made for nonstop dancing in four-inch heels, but Celia Henry was giving it her best shot. This hole-in-the-wall dive bar might have the worst decor she’d ever seen, but it also had the best DJ she’d ever heard. Every time she thought she’d have time to catch her breath or grab a drink, Lisa was pulling her back out onto the dance floor for another song. And, since this was Lisa’s last night out as a single woman, Celia wasn’t about to be the party pooper who ruined it for her.

All of them—Celia, Lisa and four of Lisa’s college friends—in their short summer dresses and fancy shoes stood out from the other women wearing jeans and T-shirts and shit-kicker boots, and wasn’t that the point of a bachelorette party? Men had been buying them drinks and dancing with them all night long, and so what if maybe the men were a little more…hirsute and a little less…fashion-conscious than Celia was used to, it was still a lot of fun. Those shit-kicking farmers really knew how to get down on the dance floor, not like the guys in clubs she was used to, who stood in the dark corners with their drinks in hand, bobbing their heads to the beat while they checked out every girl’s ass. Nope, these dudes knew how to get their freak on to every single line dance ever recorded and quite a few Celia’d never heard.

“See?” Lisa crowed as she pushed back the “bridal” veil attached to her hair with plastic, penis-shaped barrettes. “I told you this was gonna be great!”

“How’d you even find this place?” Celia shouted over the heavy, driving beat of a metal/pop mash-up she didn’t recognize. Celia’s cousin lived for designer shoes, purses and coffee. Frog’s Hollow had a beat-up interior and an anything but high-scale menu—frogs’ legs? Gross! So not Lisa’s style.

“Denny and I found it one day when we were out driving around.” Lisa leaned unsteadily to talk into Celia’s ear. “I mean, who knew, right?”

Celia laughed as she put out a hand to keep Lisa from toppling over on her peep-toed pumps. “Right. Listen, I need to grab some water. Are you going to be okay here?”

Lisa tipped her head back, eyes closed, arms flung wide. “Of course! I got my girls with me, right?”

Celia had met her cousin’s friends only a few times before and had never seen any of them, or Lisa, for that matter, so drunk. Amy was grinding with a guy wearing a trucker cap and a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off. Melody and Brit were grinding with each other, to the delight of a circle of dudes all in T-shirts with variations of the John Deere tractor logo on them. And Dana…where the hell was Dana, anyway? Celia began to feel more like a kindergarten chaperone on a field trip to the zoo rather than the designated driver.

“Where’s Dana?”

Lisa opened her eyes with a grin that turned to a surprised O when she tipped forward into Celia’s ready arms. “What? Who? Where?”

Celia waited for her cousin to throw in a “why,” but when she didn’t, said “Dana. Your friend? She was over by the bar a minute ago, but now she’s gone.”

Lisa made a show of looking but let herself get carried away by giggles and the apparently too-tempting offer of a young dude in cuffed jeans and a wife-beater who was offering her another beer. “Oopsie, be right back!”

Celia, left on the dance floor, took the chance for a break. She scanned the room for Dana’s difficult-to-miss blinking red penis necklace, but didn’t see her. She did catch another tasty glimpse of the table in the back corner of the bar, though, the one occupied by a group of men who looked as out of place here as Lisa and her friends. They all wore jeans and boots, a couple of them wore baseball caps and one wore a flannel shirt—but it was clear they were not part of the regular Frog’s Hollow crowd, either.

One in particular had caught Celia’s eye. A couple inches taller than his friends, no hat to cover his short dark hair or obscure his equally dark eyes. His western-style shirtsleeves had been rolled to show off a set of truly bitable forearms, and the snap front had been left open to reveal a plain white cotton T-shirt underneath.

Yum.

She had to pass right by their table to get to the bar, and there was no doubt she turned heads. Also no doubt that it had been awhile since Celia had felt this giddy from male attention. This…free. She took her time with the once-over she gave the table, too, lingering with a grin on the mother-of-pearl snaps on the front of that dude’s shirt before giving him a wink he returned with a smile of his own. She’d have done more than let her gaze linger, but she really needed to get a drink of water to soothe her parched throat. And eventually use the restroom. And find Dana. Oh yeah, and maybe find a place to sit and get the pressure off her aching toes.

A lap would do nicely, she thought with a laugh as she made her way to the bar. Preferably the one belonging to Snap-Front Shirt Guy. She ordered a glass of water and sipped it, relishing the flow of the liquid down her throat as it spread coolness through her overheated body. She nodded her thanks toward the bartender and turned to walk smack right into a Western-style, snap-front shirt. Her water spilled, all over him, all over her, and Celia was too surprised at the frigid shock of ice cubes slipping down the front of her dress to do anything but gasp.

Well, gasp and let out a hearty “MOTHERFUCKER!”

Mr. Western Snaps blinked and took a step back. Then he laughed. Damn, that laugh was amazingly sexy. So was the way his eyes crinkled up, revealing more lines in the corners than she’d have thought would be there. It was impossible to tell in the bar’s reddish neon lighting, but she thought his face might even have flushed.

“I’m sorry.” He held up both hands. “I’m an idiot.”

Celia looked at the front of her dress, now molded to her breasts. Her chin dripped. “A soaking wet idiot.”

His fingertips brushed his chest and he looked down, as if just noticing. When he looked back up at her, that twinkling gaze was still there, though his grin had pulled down into a semblance of remorse. “Agreed. Can I buy you another drink if I promise not to spill it all over you?”

Celia held up her empty glass, ice cubes rattling. “I’m just drinking water, but sure. You can get me another.”

“Only water?” He raised a hand toward the bartender, who was already passing him a fresh glass. “Don’t tell me you’re a teetotaler.”

Her brows lifted at the old-fashioned term. “Nope. Just the designated driver tonight.”

He glanced to the dance floor, where Lisa had convinced a group to form a conga line. “Looks like they really need one.”

“Bachelorette party,” she explained, and watched him nod. “My cousin Lisa’s getting married next week.”

“Lisa. The blonde?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Why do guys always like the blondes?”

His gaze swept over her dark auburn hair, piled on top of her head in a messy updo that had looked a little more pulled together when the night began. A few tendrils had escaped during the wild dancing. Some clung, tickling, to her cheeks. He twined one around his finger lightly before moving his hand away.

“Not all guys.”

She didn’t have to tip her head too far to look up into his face. The shoes helped. “Sweet talker. What’s your name?”

“Luke. Gaines.” He held out his hand.

She took it. “Celia Henry. What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He drank from his bottle of beer, then slid his tongue over his bottom lip.

“I told you—“

“Right, right. Bachelorette party.”

From the dance floor came some loud cheering. Someone had settled Lisa into a chair, and four rednecks were lifting her up and down while she squealed and the rest of the crowd cheered her on. Celia put a hand over her eyes to peek through her fingers.

“Oh, God. If they don’t drop her on her ass, she’s totally going to puke on someone’s head.”

“What sort of bachelorette party would it be if someone didn’t get dropped on their ass?” Luke laughed and pointed toward Lisa with his beer bottle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He looked at her. “We ended up here completely by accident. Me and my buddies, we’re heading out tomorrow for a…well…”

He rubbed his hand over his hair to cup the back of his head as he gave her another of those charming “aw shucks, ma’am” looks. “I guess you could call it an expedition.”

“Oh, yeah? What kind of expedition could you be doing around here?” Though the mountains of Lebanon County weren’t more than five minutes’ drive away, they were hardly big enough for more than a few hours’ hike. Certainly nothing that could be called an expedition.

He looked hesitant. “I shouldn’t really say.”

That tickled her interest further, not that she needed any encouragement. “Oooh. Is it something naughty?”

That laugh again, God. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He was a purdy, purdy man.

“Umm…”

“C’mon.” Celia touched his forearm lightly. Warm skin. The soft brush of hair on her fingertips. She kept her eyes on his. “You can tell me. I promise not to turn you in.”

“Okay. But it’s not something you’d ever guess. We’re going…spelunking.” Luke tipped his beer again, letting her get a good, long look at the column of his throat as he swallowed.

Another big word, and again with the tongue on his lips. So fucking sexy. Celia mimicked the action, tasting the salt of her sweat. Luke’s gaze snagged the motion and his eyes flared with an interest she was definitely returning.

“Caving,” he added.

“I know what it means.” Celia finished her water and put the empty glass on the bar. She leaned back against it. She tried to think of what she knew about caves, which was just about zilch. “Around here?”

“Yep.” He tipped his bottle toward the front doors. “New cave some farmer just discovered. Well, not a new cave. I mean, caves are millions of years old. And it’s probably just a part of a bigger cave that someone found a long time ago, maybe even one of the big tourist ones.”

“Crystal Cave?” She’d been there once, a long time ago. With Jeremy, as a matter of fact, now that she thought about it. They’d stopped once on their way to New Hampshire to visit his parents. Involuntarily, her lip curled.

“Could be.” Luke’s smile twisted. “You don’t like caves?”

She turned her grimace into a grin. “Nothing against caves. So…how do you and your friends get to be part of this brand-new cave exploration?”

“Oh. I’m a geologist and so’s Pete. Adam’s a speleologist. Terry and Jeff are biologists.” Luke shrugged, pointing with his bottle toward his buddies.

“Wait, what? Really?” Wow. No wonder he used those sexy big words. She swept him up and down again with her gaze. “You don’t look like a geologist.”

Luke snorted with laughter. “I left my pocket protector at home, sorry.”

“So why does it have to be so secret, this trip?” Celia motioned to the bartender and ordered a Coke.

Luke pulled out his wallet before she could stop him, and slid a five across the bar. He shook his head when she tried to protest. “Nope, I owed you a drink. It’s not a secret, exactly. I work for a company that surveys and assesses the value of indigenous resources.”

Celia had no idea what that meant, and it must’ve shown, because Luke laughed. “Rocks. Minerals. Veins of natural gas or coal, petroleum. That sort of thing. We got word of this new find, which I have to tell you is always exciting and pretty rare. I mean, people find new rooms in known caves and stuff all the time, but to discover a new, unexplored cave…that’s a pretty big deal. And the farmer who found it thinks there might be some valuable minerals in it, but he also wants to get bids from our competitor. My boss convinced him to wait until we’d had a chance to check it out, give us the first shot, but that’s why we’re trying to keep it quiet.”

“You’re afraid I might be your competition?” Celia wiggled her brows at him.

Luke looked serious. “It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried some unorthodox methods to get the jump on us. Once I had to outrun a pack of Dobermans they’d released at a site.”

“Wow. So, what…you’re kind of like the Indiana Jones of the geology world?”

“You could say that.” He winked. “I have the hat, anyway.”

“What about the whip?”

He snapped his fingers with a look of exaggerated regret. “Left it with the pocket protector, darn.”

A killer smile, big vocabulary and a sense of humor. Twenty minutes into this conversation, and Celia already knew she was a goner. “So, how do you know I’m not working for the other guys?”

“I could see it in your face when I brought up the new cave and the possibility of valuable minerals. That stuff’s a geologist’s wet dream.” He looked chagrined, though Celia couldn’t understand why he would think she cared about a little sexual terminology when she’d cursed in his face a few minutes ago. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“Sometimes,” Celia said, “it’s good to get carried away.”

They stared at each other for a long, long moment before Lisa stumbled up to them and threw her arm around Celia’s shoulders. She gave Luke a bleary, narrow-eyed look. “Hey. Who’s this?”

“Luke, this is my cousin Lisa. She’s getting married next week.”

“To Denny!” Lisa cried, then tossed both her hands in the air, making rock horns with her fingers. “Wooooooo! Yeah! Fuck yeah! Celia, why aren’t you dancing? C’mon, I love this song, let’s dance.”

Lisa grabbed at Celia’s hand, than Luke’s. “You too! C’mon dance with my pretty cousin, she’s so pretttty. She’s single! Celia’s single!”

Lisa was a loud drunk. Fun, but loud. And not at all subtle. Celia let herself be pulled along and wound up facing Luke on the dance floor while the DJ spun another mash-up. Lisa grabbed Melody and Brit, pushing herself between them as the three began a ridiculously silly bump-n-grind that had everyone on the dance floor cheering. Celia rolled her eyes.

“They are going to be so sad tomorrow morning.” She had to push onto her tiptoes to shout this in Luke’s ear, since the music was so much louder over here.

His hands rested naturally on her hips as he pulled her closer. His lips brushed her ear as he replied, “Poor them.”

Then, they danced.

Luke was an excellent dancer, not the line-dancing sort but with a natural rhythm that kept them both bopping to the beat in perfect time. He spun her out, then in. Her hands settled on his shoulders as they moved together, and Celia forgot about the ache in her toes and the soles of her feet. She never wanted to stop.

Of course, she had to. It wasn’t even near closing time, but the other women in their party were stumbling drunk and Celia still hadn’t managed to catch sight of Dana. That made her nervous, because even though Dana was a grown woman who should be able to take care of herself, Celia had volunteered to be the designated driver and she guessed that meant babysitter too.

“I have to use the restroom,” she told Luke as the song slowed a little and gave them a chance to breathe. “And find my cousin’s friend. She’s probably in there.”

Luke nodded but looked reluctant as he let her go. “Hurry back.”

Impulsively, Celia touched his cheek. “You’re sweet.”

He groaned, clutching his heart. “Kiss of death!”

“No, no,” she laughed, shaking her head, “it’s a good thing. Really.”

Luke caught her hand and kissed the knuckles, but let her go as she tugged away. She backed up to keep him in her sight as long as she could before turning with a giggle and a grin as she pushed through the swinging batwing doors into the corridor leading to the bathrooms. That was where she found Dana, headfirst in the toilet. Recoiling, her exuberance punctured like a balloon, Celia covered her mouth and nose and peeked into the stall again.

“Dana?”

Without lifting her head, Dana flung up a hand. Thumbs up. “’M’good!”

“You don’t look good.”

“’M’okay!”

A tall, broad-shouldered gal in a denim skirt and a black Harley-Davidson tank top came out of the other stall to flash a grin at Celia. “She’s okay. She’s been in there for about an hour. Let her get it out of her system, she will eventually.” The woman washed her hands at the sink and gave Celia a look from the mirror’s reflection. “Can’t hold her liquor, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Celia said, then added like an excuse, “bachelorette party.”

“Yours?”

“Oh, hell no. I’ll never do that again.” It came out more vehement than she’d intended, but the woman just nodded knowingly.

“I hear you, honey. I went through it three times before I learned my lesson.”

“Once was enough for me.” Celia looked dubiously into the stall. Now Dana was cradling her cheek on her palm, right there on the toilet seat. Eyes closed. A strangely blissful smile on her face. “Um…”

“She’ll be okay. Get her home, try to get her to drink some water. She’ll be hurting tomorrow though. She’s not the one getting married tomorrow, is she?”

“No, it’s my cousin Lisa’s party. And the wedding’s not until next week.” Thank God, Celia thought as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Eyes bright, face flushed, hair wild. If the wedding had been a few hours from now, all of them would’ve been hurting.

“Need me to call you a cab?” The woman turned from the sink and studied Dana.

“You can get a cab out here?”

The woman grinned. “Sure. Depends on how far you have to go, but sure.”

The plan had been for Celia to drive everyone home to Lisa’s house in Palmyra, about thirty minutes away, but as tempting as it was to toss Dana in a cab to let a stranger deal with the possibility of puke in his backseat, she couldn’t do that. “I haven’t been drinking. I’ll drive her home.”

“Good luck, hon.” The woman winked and left the bathroom.

Celia leaned in. “Dana, I’ll be right back. I’m going to find Lisa and get out of here, okay?”

No answer but a soft snore. If Celia had been the sort to snap a picture with her camera phone and upload it to one of those embarrassing photo blogs, this would’ve been the perfect shot. Instead, she sighed and headed back into the bar to round up the other bachelorettes. No easy task, she discovered, when Lisa decided she wasn’t ready to go home until everyone danced with her to the Cha-Cha Slide. Twice.

Everyone but Celia, who’d only do that sort of dance at the point of a knife, which is what it felt like someone was doing to her toes. Screw it. She didn’t trust her bare feet to the bar floor, but she could grab a pair of her sneakers from her trunk and put them on. It was that time of night, anyway.

“You’re not leaving are you?” Luke caught up to her at the front door.

“Soon. I’m going to get something from my car.” She tipped her chin toward the parking lot. “Wanna come with me? I hear the gravel’s really special.”

“Rock jokes,” Luke said as he followed her. “Nice.”

They reached the car in moments. This was a different kind of dance. Celia turned, meaning to make another joke, and found herself backed up on chilly metal that felt good on her hot skin. Her ass rested against the hood, Luke already between her thighs as she pulled him closer by the belt buckle and offered him her mouth. It happened as naturally as his hands had earlier fallen to her hips, as skillfully as he’d turned her on the dance floor. His tongue stroked hers and sent shivers of pleasure trickling through her like water through stones.

The kiss softened. Ended. He rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closed, and Celia noticed one of his hands had cupped the back of her head, the other her hip. She’d hooked her heel over the back of his thigh. All in the space of just over a minute, not quite two.

“Hey.” Luke looked at her.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re a good kisser.”

“Oh, I can do much better than that,” Luke said and proceeded to show her.

It went deeper this time. A little harder, but not too much. It was what Celia’d always thought of as a starburst kiss, one explosion after another. This time she gasped a little when he pulled away, and she had to blink rapidly to unblur her vision.

“You sure can,” she said. “Wow.”

“Geologists really know how to rock.”

“Oh, bad. Bad, bad joke.” She groaned, letting her head fall back against his hand. Above her, the night sky was deep and dark and alight with stars. Luke shifted between her thighs and his belt buckle pressed against her, far too delicious and tempting to ignore. “Where are you staying?”

“Motel down the road.” He leaned in as though to kiss her but kept his mouth a scant breath from hers.

“Damn it. I have to take my cousin and her friends home. I have to go,” Celia said with true regret but also a little relief. She had an excuse for not giving in to the horny devil on her shoulder.

“Don’t go just yet.” He kissed her again, slower this time.

The hand on her hip squeezed gently, slid a little higher. He rocked her against him, just enough to make her want to wiggle and press herself against his belt buckle just a little harder, and she kept herself from doing just that by the barest grasp on her self-control. Luke was a great dancer and a great kisser, and Celia hadn’t had anything this sweet between her legs in a long, long time. What better way to water her dry spell than with a handsome, sexy stranger who would be gone in the morning?

“Luke. I have to go.” Her voice rasped, rough and raw with the rush of desire she hadn’t felt in months. How long had it been since she’d even let a man turn her head? Too long. Her hands slid up the front of his chest to toy with those too-damned-sexy snaps.

His mouth breezed along her jaw to her chin. His teeth nipped softly, just the right amount of pressure. His breath, hot in her ear, sent more shivers trembling through her, peaked her nipples, pulsed her clit. Her thighs opened wider, the soft fabric of her dress shifting against her bare legs as he pressed harder against her. The hand on her hip slid down, beneath her ass, to lift her the few inches onto her hood. She clung to him with another gasp at how easily he lifted her even that short distance, at how their tongues tangled and teeth clashed.

Breathing hard, she broke the kiss. “How long will you be in town?”

He licked his lower lip. “Not long enough. We go in tomorrow, take some samples. In and out fast, so we can get them back to the lab and see what’s there before anyone else does.”

“Where do you live?” It was against hope that he’d say Harrisburg, a forty- minute drive from her house. Or Philadelphia, just over an hour.

“Pittsburgh,” he said.

“Shit,” Celia muttered. Four hours away. A little long to drive for a coffee date.

The front doors banged open, spilling light into the parking lot, then a gaggle of bachelorettes followed. Dana was with them too, at least there was that. Lisa cupped a hand to her mouth.

“Wooooo hoooo! Celia! Cuz! Where you at?”

“I guess you have to go.” Luke kissed her again before pulling back to help her get off the hood.

Celia shook the folds of her dress around her thighs and used her pinky to wipe the corners of her mouth. Her thumb pressed the pad of her lower lip, kiss-swollen and wet. She could still taste him.

“Maybe…you’ll be back?” she asked hopefully, but before Luke could answer Lisa had spotted them and was stumbling across the gravel toward them.

“Cuz! Celia! What are you doing?” Behind her, Melody and Brit were helping a staggering Dana, who tripped and dragged them down with her. The three of them went to their knees in the gravel.

“Ouch,” Luke observed. “That will sting. Let me help you get them in the car, anyway.”

Her stomach muscles had gone tight with anticipation while they were kissing, but now everything in her sagged, disappointed at being denied such a sweet treat. “Thanks.”

When she dug in her bag for her keys to use her remote to unlock the doors, Celia noticed how much lower the front of her car had settled compared to the back. She took a step back, then another, barely registering that she’d pushed against Luke. The right front tire was completely flat.

“Shit!”

“What? It’s time to go, Celia. Seely, seely, seal. Ceila. Oh, hi, it’s a cowboy.” Lisa blinked up at Luke, who put out a hand to steady her. “My Denny is not a cowboy. He’s an accountant!”

“He’s not a cowboy either.” With a scowl, Celia kicked the tire. “He’s a geologist.”

Luke threw up rock horns with both hands. “Rock on.”

Lisa didn’t get it, of course, but Celia bit back laughter. “I’m flat.”

“What? No, no, no.” Lisa shook her head. The other women were on their feet again. Barely. “You’re not flat, baby, you’re like Dolly Partons! Get it? Partons, because she has two—“

“Do you have Triple-A?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.” Celia sighed. “But that doesn’t do me any good getting these lushes home.”

“Call Denny!” Lisa waved her cell phone at Celia. “He’ll come get us! He will! Because he loooooooves me!”

Denny, as it turned out, was more than happy to come get his drunk-off-her-ass fiancée and her friends, because he was just that kind of guy. Celia had always liked Denny, even if she’d found him a little too…accommodating…for her tastes. Not that she was the one marrying him, and besides, look what falling for a bad boy had done for her in the past. Nothing but a set of divorce papers and a brand-new mortgage. Now though, she adored Denny for no other reason than he showed up in twenty minutes with a van big enough to cart everyone home—including her, if she needed a ride.

“I’ll drive you home,” Luke said quietly. He’d shaken Denny’s hand but said little beyond that while they herded Lisa and her friends into the van. Now he looked at Celia with some of that earlier heat. “If you want.”

“Sure. That would be great.” She kept her voice light and steady without the tremble of desire to give her away.

Denny looked doubtful. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m fine. I’ll get my mom to run me out here tomorrow. No problem.” She fixed him with a bright grin that seemed to satisfy him.

Then she let Luke drive her home.

And she invited him in.

Two steps inside the front door, she had her mouth on his, pushing him against the wall so hard the pictures rattled in their frames. His hand again cupped the back of her head. The other went between her legs. Celia moaned into his mouth, her nerves on fire from that touch. From everything, all of it. The months of nothing, the years before that of her failing marriage.

But most of all, the past few hours she’d spent with Luke.

His hand twisted, palm pressing her as his thumb settled unerringly against the front of her cotton panties. His tongue slipped slowly into her mouth as his thumb pressed her clit and the hand that had been cupping her head moved down to grab her ass. Celia broke the kiss so she could get a breath.

“Luke—“ That was all she could manage. She wasn’t even sure what she’d meant to say, whether that simple, single syllable had been meant as plea or command or prayer.

His gaze didn’t waver from hers. His thumb pressed, released. Pressed again. Her knees were going weak with the pleasure seeping from that tiny motion into every nerve.

“I want you,” Celia said.

“Good.” He took his hand from between her legs to lift and turn her at the same time.

This time, he pinned her to the wall. She hooked her ankles behind him, his belt buckle taking the place of his thumb, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He kissed her again, her mouth already open for him. Something jabbed at the base of her spine—the light switch, she thought when the overhead hall light went out, then on again. Celia wriggled against him, the kiss going on and on even as he pushed back from the wall still holding her so tight she didn’t worry about falling.

“Where?” Luke bit out between kisses.

“Living room,” Celia managed to say against his mouth. “Straight back this hall.”

He got them both there in a matter of moments. She thought he might tumble them onto the sectional sofa, which was surely wide enough to fuck on, though she’d never even had a guy over to sit on it. Instead, he moved past it, through the archway to the dining room, where he settled her on the dining room table. It creaked under her weight, and Celia laughed into his mouth.

He kissed her again, softer this time. When she put her hand on his chest, the thump of his heart pounded hard on her palm. This physical evidence of how she was affecting him bumped up the beat of her own heart. Then she wondered if these kisses had made him hard for her already, and another bolt of arousal teased between her legs.

Luke was pushing her back onto the table, and Celia let herself be pushed. She let him slide her dress up over her thighs. Higher, to reveal the plain panties she wished were sexier. Then higher still to show a sliver of her belly. He kissed her there, and her body arched again, involuntarily. Her low, muttered gasp was louder than the table’s creak. When he hooked her panties at the hips and pulled them slowly off, a thousand thoughts whirled, most of them incoherent and only one or two making any sense.

Oh, God. Oh, yes. I should make him stop, tell him to get a condom…shit, do I have any condoms?

Breathing hard, Luke looked up at her before sliding her along the tabletop toward him. He kissed her mouth again. His hand moved between them, fingers dipping inside to find her already slick. Her clit already hard. She jerked a little when he pinched it lightly with his thumb and finger. She made a noise. A fucknoise, no way to disguise it as anything else, and her nails dug into his shoulder.

“Want to watch you,” Luke murmured into her ear.

His fingers moved, slowly but just right. Stroke, stroke, tug. His lips sought hers as his hand slipped a little lower, his fingers moving inside her in an echo of his tongue in her mouth. Then out again, wet, to slide along her clit with a perfect pressure, perfect pace that had her moving toward the edge so fast she couldn’t believe it.

Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Not to her, any way. One-night stands? This would be her third, and you’d think she’d have learned her lesson after the first two. Celia wasn’t hung up on sex, but she was particular, and it always, always took her a few times with a new partner before she came.

Chalk it up to Luke’s superior technique or her body’s overeager response to what it had gone too long without, but either way, Celia wasn’t going to complain. Her nails dug deeper, not even earning a wince from him as he kept up the slow and steady stroking against her without ever letting his gaze waver.

She wanted to look away—how intimate this was, too much for a first encounter. Too much, almost, for someone she loved, much less a stranger. Yet something kept her eyes fixed on his as his touch inched her closer and closer to orgasm. Something kept her from tensing, from chasing away the rising pleasure before it could crest…and break.

Celia cried out, low, as her back arched and at last her eyes closed, impossible to keep open with her climax boiling through her. It struck her like lightning, the aftershocks like thunder a moment later. She shook, suffused with the sort of ecstasy only a truly stellar orgasm brings.