Читать книгу Playing With Fire - Rebecca Hunter - Страница 11

SIMON INHALED DEEPLY and tried to calm the fuck down. But he was standing so close to Marianna, and instead of pulling away, he was finding reasons to move closer. His heart had just about stopped at her last question.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked softly. “Why wouldn’t you let me make sure you’re safe?”

She took a little drink from her glass. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Simon.”

Then she licked her lips.

His gaze was fixed on her mouth, taking him somewhere else entirely. Somewhere his mind hadn’t gone in so long. To the day he and Marianna had taken her boat far away from everything. The day they shifted from lust-driven encounters to something more. Anchored off a hidden beach, the water still and no one in sight. They had the time to explore. It was the first time she had been shy. Different. He tasted every part of her body, and he lay back while she played with her hands and her mouth, discovering, her brow furrowed in concentration until he came. And then she started all over again.

Shit. Those memories were so well-worn that they shouldn’t get him hard anymore. But they did. Now, eleven years later, he was in her kitchen, staring at her lips, and his tongue was probably hanging out.

Marianna’s gaze suggested she could see exactly what he was imagining. Her eyes narrowed. “The last time you offered to be there for me, you backed out, remember?”

He leaned closer and touched her chin with his fingers. She shivered as the rough pads of his thumb traced along her jaw. “Don’t pretend it was that simple, Marianna.”

She just shook her head.

He let his fingers slide down her neck.

“Let’s just put those last days aside for now,” he whispered. It was simpler to be in the moment, ignore the complicated past between them—when her father had nearly destroyed his family. When his family had learned just how manipulative Alex Ruiz could be, threatening their livelihood, spreading terrible rumors. Besides, if he’d stayed back then, Simon would have only prolonged the inevitable. As his own father had so bluntly put it, he wasn’t part of the kind of life Marianna would want.

He continued a slow exploration of her skin with his hand. Soft curves and slopes. A crease formed between her eyebrows.

“Why were you waiting outside my house today, Simon?” she whispered. “What do you want from me?”

Wrong time to ask that question. For a few years he had thought he wanted Marianna to suffer for the way she’d looked down at him eleven years ago. But then he’d built a life on wanting nothing, and that faded. Now he had no idea what he was looking for.

No, that wasn’t true. There was one thing Simon was sure he wanted.

Slowly, so slowly that she couldn’t mistake his intentions, he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips brushed against hers, once, twice. His heart raced in his chest. He parted his mouth and tasted her. Salty sweet, like a day on the beach. Fuck, this was really happening. After all these years, he was kissing her again. He sucked her bottom lip, and she let out a little moan. Simon released her lip, and neither of them moved. His breaths were coming fast. He swallowed, holding tight control on his deepest urges to dive in, to take, to have.

Time to decide. Back away, keeping the past in the past? Or just one more little taste of heaven? He’d wait for her answer.

Marianna’s breath was shaky as she pressed her soft lips against his. Goddamn. She was kissing him now. With her warm, wet mouth. He groaned as her hands brushed against his stomach, exploring, finding her way. He slid his tongue in, letting her know just how hungry he was for her. His hands slipped under her shirt, and he was touching her soft skin again, remembering. She came alive under his hands, pressing closer, begging for more. Skimming her hands through his hair, she pulled him closer. After all these years.

He broke off the kiss and pulled away. Marianna’s eyes fluttered open, hazy and surprised. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips, swollen. Damn, he wanted this woman like nothing else right now.

“Do you want to do this one last time?” he asked.

Her eyes flashed with uncertainty. What was she debating? There was nothing uncertain about their kiss, and he was leaving for Sydney early tomorrow. No matter what happened between them, nothing changed.

He brushed her hair off her shoulder and pressed his lips against her bare skin. So goddamn sweet.

“It’ll be hot between us,” he whispered, catching her earlobe between his lips. “You know I can make you feel good.”

Her sigh was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, like she was imagining just how good it would be.

“You know I’ll take care of you.”

She stiffened under his hands.

“Don’t say that,” she said sharply.

Simon froze. He moved back a little and looked down at her, his brow furrowed. He had been talking about her pleasure, but that couldn’t be what she was reacting to. Her mouth was in a tight line, and her eyes held years of unspoken accusations.

He blinked at her, grasping at his thoughts. Simon ran his thumb over her mouth, and her expression softened.

She let out a breath. “Just don’t pretend this is something it’s not.”

“What do you think this is?” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think. His erection throbbed unhelpfully between them, intruding on the conversation. The last thing they should be doing right now was talking.

So he traced a path with his fingers down her neck, down her chest until his hands cupped her breasts. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, and she let out a soft moan.

“Forget that question, Mari,” he said. “Let’s not drag any of our old shit up. I can think of so many better ways to use our time.”

He stroked up and down her sides slowly, his thumbs brushing under her breasts each time. The sharpness in her gaze faded. All the yellows were gone from her eyes, swallowed up in black, leaving only the thin gray-green outlines. He had forgotten the way her eyes changed when she watched him like this.

“One more time,” she said.

His fingers flexed into the curve of her waist, and he bit back the groan stuck in his throat. Yes. This was really going to happen.

She slipped her hands under his shirt again. His stomach muscles quivered as her fingers trailed up his chest, exploring.

“You’ve gotten bigger,” she whispered. “I noticed it before.”

His cock throbbed a response, and Marianna laughed softly. She unbuttoned his jeans and slipped one hand inside, playing with the waistband of his boxers.

“You want to go upstairs?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Right here.”

Simon’s mind flashed to their very first encounter in this kitchen. He squeezed his eyes shut as a bolt of lust shot through him.

She must have gone back to the same moment, too, because she laughed. “You hated me that first day.”

“You were a spoiled little rich girl,” he said, his voice growing huskier. “You lay by your goddamn pool, watching me work in the hot sun for weeks.”

Marianna smiled. “So why did you say yes when I offered you a drink?”

He let out a groan. “Because your eyes said, come in and fuck me.”

“That’s not what my eyes said,” she whispered. “They said, I want to taste you.”

He slipped his hands under her shirt and shuddered. The scent of her, all that warm, soft skin under his fingertips. It was too much to resist, so he let in the memory of that day one more time. Her little bikini had been all strings and scraps of red, and he had followed her inside this house, somewhere between blinding lust and hate. The cool air and the front-row view of her swimsuit would have been enough, but she took it much further than that. His eyes fixed on her, he’d walked to the table and pulled one of her kitchen chairs out to sit facing her. She’d poured him a glass of water and come close, between his legs, reaching across him to set it on the table next to him. Letting her breasts fall right in front of him. Close enough to taste. When she stood up, she didn’t back away.

He could still feel cold water running down his throat as he drank it in one long gulp, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. For weeks he had forced himself not to stare. Now that he could, he took his time, slowly memorizing every curve, every inch of exposed skin, not bothering to hide his erection. Her gaze dropped to his pants, and she smiled. I’m curious, she had said. Two words that changed everything. Then she knelt between his legs, unzipped his pants and gave him the hottest blow job of his life.

“All-time best lunch break,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

“I bet it was.” She chuckled.

How long had it been since he had laughed when he was with a woman? But he wasn’t going to think about that kind of shit. He was here with her today.

Her skirt was silky, soft under his hands as he slid them down over her ass. She moved her hips against his in slow reminders of how it could be.

Years ago he would have told himself to stay away from the woman who made him want what he could never have. Today he didn’t give a fuck. Today all Simon wanted was one more time. One more chance to bury himself inside her before he said goodbye to his past forever.

Marianna’s smile faded, and she reached up to trace the stubble of his jaw. How had she forgotten the way his beautiful green eyes looked right into her, searching for parts of her that no one else saw? And, God, it felt so good, so right.

Simon blinked, and they stared at each other, frozen somewhere between the past and the present. Then, his fingers flexed against her rear, and he tilted his hips into hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and he did it again. She bit back a moan, but he must have heard it anyway because his smile was full of dark lust.

She let her hand fall from his jaw and twisted in his grip so that he was up against her back, her belly against the counter. His hands slipped over her hips, and he pressed up against her.

“How do you like it now?” he whispered in her ear.

She swallowed. It was better if she wasn’t facing him. She hadn’t been with anyone since the divorce, and this was going to get messy fast if she wasn’t careful. Emotional. She was already reading too much into those glimpses of longing in Simon’s eyes.

She still hadn’t figured out why he had shown up at this house. But maybe she could get to that as they both let their guards down. Sex had a way of doing that. But this wasn’t like their first time, just for fun, to see what was underneath his hard exterior. Now there were so many things she didn’t want to uncover.

Still, she couldn’t deny the dizzying pleasure of finally, finally touching Simon again. After the worst year of her life, she deserved to feel good again for just a little while.

“I like just about everything,” she said, smiling. “That hasn’t changed.”

His hands were skimming over her stomach again, cupping her breasts, and his erection was rock hard against her. Good God. Had that part of him gotten bigger, too?

He reached under her skirt, exploring her thighs, and she opened her legs, wanting more.

“You feel so good, so soft.” His voice was rough in her ear. “You want this nice and slow, or you want this hard?”

The question spread a wave of heat through her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. “Hard.”

His fingers flexed as the word floated out of her mouth. He hissed out a breath, and his hand moved higher, finding the edges of her panties.

“Hard,” he rasped. “That’s exactly what I want right now with you.”

As he spoke those words, he slipped his hand under the lace of her panties and stroked her, dipped his fingers inside her. She moaned and rocked into his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

Damn, this would be good. Something about him made her light up. When they had their last fight, he had said something that stuck. A man like him could only have two purposes for a woman like her: to work for her or to fuck her. Not that she believed it, but if that was all he was offering...

“Let’s do this now, Simon,” she said, her voice tight in her throat. Before she looked too closely at what was happening.

His hands disappeared, and there was a rustling behind her. After a moment, he set the condom wrapper on the counter next to her. Then he pulled away.

Marianna gripped the edge of the counter, willing herself not to turn around. Not to watch the look on his face in the intimate, erotic moment when he pulled himself out. Were his fingers trembling as he rolled the condom down his long, hard erection? Did he want her as badly as she wanted him? But she couldn’t make this any more personal.

All thought disappeared the moment he touched her again, coaxing her to bend over farther. They didn’t bother with undressing. He just lifted her skirt up and moved her panties to the side. He slid his erection along her core, back and forth, before he pushed in hard.

She gasped and cried out, and he growled behind her, thrusting again.

“Did you miss my hard cock?”

She gulped in a breath as bolts of white-hot pleasure shot through her body.

“Is this what you missed most?” His voice was heavy in her ear.

She couldn’t answer, but he knew this about her. He could fuck her speechless. Words became impossible when so much want and need spread through her. He was filling her, over and over again, hard and fast, building her up way too soon. She should have known he couldn’t just put aside their past. And neither could she.

Now they were right back where they were eleven years ago, and she didn’t have it in her to stop it. Not right now, when his hot breaths drifted over her neck and his voice rang in her ears. Each thrust took them deeper, closer. He slid his hands down her back, caressing, exploring. His fingers dug into her hips, and she answered him, pushing back against him, meeting each movement, seeking her own pleasure.

Oh, God.

Her knees began to shake, threatening to give out. Her own moans of pleasure were coming louder and faster as she spiraled out of control.

“Yes, Simon.”

Her body exploded in flashes of white heat as those words echoed inside. Yes, Simon. It was too much. She shook and crumbled onto the cool countertop as the waves of ecstasy rushed through her. Simon gave two last hard thrusts and roared out his own pleasure, sending another ripple of bliss through her. His big body shuddered behind her, and he breathed out a string of curse words in Spanish.

She smiled to herself. When she was younger, she got off on making him finish that way. Back then, she didn’t understand much of what he was saying—Spanish was the language her father had refused to teach her in his struggle to distance them both from his Cuban roots. She had fought to learn the language as an adult.

Marianna laid her cheek against the granite, trying to catch her breath. Simon bent over her, his hands on the counter next to hers, his skin hot through his shirt. His breaths brushed over her in heavy pants, and his lips pressed against her shoulder.

All too soon, he pulled out, and the warmth of his body disappeared. She caught a glimpse of him over her shoulder, his face twisted with emotion.

She didn’t want to know what came next. Not yet.

Pulling together her strength, Marianna straightened up and headed for the bathroom. She locked the door, leaned her elbows on the sink and buried her face in her hands. Just breathe. This was about closing the door on a part of her life, not opening it.

Goddamn him. And she still hadn’t figured out why he’d come in the first place. It had to be something about the past. She had never learned exactly what her father had said to him eleven years ago, but whatever it was had made him leave her behind. Her father had simply told her that he had made Simon a financial offer, and he didn’t choose Marianna. No discussion, not then, not ever. She had only seen Simon once after that, and he didn’t deny her father’s version.

That’s one way of saying it was all he had replied, his scowl darkening.

Not an admission, not a denial. But his actions spoke louder: he’d gotten the hell out of Miami.

And now, eleven years later, he just shows up?

Marianna took a deep breath and splashed water over her eyes. Then, slowly, she walked back to the kitchen.

The empty kitchen.

“Simon?”

The words echoed off the floors and the shiny countertops, mocking her.

“Simon?”

Nothing. She crossed the kitchen to a notepad on the counter. On the top of the first page, a handwritten note was left in that scrawl she’d never forgotten.

Call your lawyer and make a new plan. I’m taking care of security.

That was all.

“Damn you, Simon Rodriguez,” Marianna yelled out to no one.