Читать книгу Champagne Rules - Susan Lyons - Страница 6

Suzanne balanced astride him, bracing her hands on his shoulders. Muscled shoulders, so slick with sweat her hands kept sliding. Sliding, like her body was sliding—up, down, as she rode him—their bodies making wet suck-and-slap sounds each time they came together. And each time they did come together, the burn, the ache, between her legs grew stronger.

Her body moved mindlessly, driving toward satisfaction.

But no, not yet. This was so amazing, so incredible, so unbelievable, she didn’t want it to end.

So unbelievable…Like a dream, the whole afternoon was a dream. The dusky light in the cave, the dazzle of sunny blue sky outside. The earthy, tangy scent that combined sex, sweat, ocean, dust and something else, something male and exotic, something that went straight to her head and made it spin. The scent of the man beneath her.

The man. The sexiest, most gorgeous guy she’d ever laid eyes on. An athlete’s body, lean and muscled. Skin like dark chocolate, hair the color of coal, a hint of the exotic in the short dreadlocks and neat goatee. His eyes, his smile, were bright flashes against the dim light.

She leaned down, letting tangles of long blond hair brush his nipples, touching her lips to his, feeling the slight tickle of his facial hair. But when he tried to deepen the kiss, she raised her head again, arching back, teasing him.

Teasing? Was this really her, acting like this?

Her head spun and for a moment she lost her rhythm, but his hands gripped her waist. Steadying, but not forcing her.

This incredible, powerful guy had surrendered control to her, put her in charge. The idea was so arousing, so erotic, she could hardly stand it.

She’d never felt this way before. She’d always thought of her body as healthy and reliable, but not exactly sexy.

Sexy. Oh man, this afternoon Suzanne Brennan was the epitome of sexy! Because he was, this fabulous lover of hers. For the first time in her life she was with a man—not a high school kid, not a college boy, but a real man. And every glint of his eyes told her she was a woman. A sexy woman.

She’d lost her virginity four years ago at the age of sixteen, but now she felt like it hadn’t counted. Nothing in her sex life had counted until today, when she’d really become a woman.

A brand-new instinct told her to move faster and faster, to glide up and slam down against his hard body, grinding herself into him, twisting and twining around him, building that tantalizing ache, until they both exploded.

But another part of her wanted to hold back, to make it last.

She stopped moving, panting for breath, feeling his body shudder as he too sucked in air.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Mmm.” But when she nodded, her head spun again. Too much wine for lunch, on her last day on Crete. Too much sunshine. Too much man? No, never. “Want to make it last.”

“Then distract me, woman. Distract the both of us.” His voice was sensual, deep and melodious. Sexy, to match everything else about him.

Distract them? From sex? “How?”

“Well…” He glanced around. “Look outside, down to the beach. What’s happening?”

“Okay.” She straightened a bit, lifted her gaze to the mouth of their cliffside cave. Sunshine, oh wow, it was bright! Tears sprang to her eyes as she squinted against the glare.

Dizzy again. Shouldn’t have had so much wine.

But a soft breeze dried the sweat on her face and filled her nostrils with the scent of ocean and sun-warmed herbs. Gradually her head cleared, and her eyes adjusted to the light. “The sand’s so pale it’s almost white, and the water’s a vivid greeny-blue. Like a postcard of paradise.”

The kind of postcard she’d send to her big sister but definitely not her parents. This particular paradise was a nude beach.

She smiled. “Some kids—young people—are dancing around in the shallow water, splashing and laughing.” If she hadn’t met him, she might be with them right now—if she’d had the guts to join in. “They’re playing and it’s kind of innocent, but it’s provocative too, because they’re naked.”

His fingers stroked down the inside of her thigh, then back up again, coming to rest just below the spot where their bodies joined. Innocent, yet provocative. She shivered, a tremor that shook her from head to toe, outside and in.

His body tensed in response. “Don’t move.” His voice was rougher now. “Keep talking, give me something else to focus on.”

Did she have so much power, that a mere shiver could threaten his control? An amazing thought—but then he had that power over her, this man who’d given her her first Big O.

Suzanne tried to hold still as she straddled him, her thighs hot and slick against his, her knees sore from the rough towel and the hard rock beneath it.

Her gaze roamed the beach. “There’s a couple lying on a big red towel.” Were they…? She squinted. “Both men.” That was one thing about a nude beach, there was no such thing as gender ambiguity.

“They’re holding hands.” She smiled dreamily. “Lovers. Letting the sun kiss them, waiting, being patient, feeling the anticipation build.” Just as she and her lover were doing.

He reached out to claim her right hand, and brought it to his mouth. Gently, he nipped the mound at the base of her thumb, then took the tip of her index finger into his mouth and began to suck.

Her breath quickened. When she looked down, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “Watch the beach.”

Twenty or thirty yards below, gentle waves lapped the shore, receded, then lapped again. His mouth found their rhythm as he sucked, then released, bathing her finger in wet heat, then easing free so the cave’s breath chilled her burning skin.

She’d never experienced—never even imagined—anything so sensual, so sexy.

Here she was, a voyeur, watching the people below on the beach, and at the same time this man was watching her, making love to her.

Suzanne couldn’t stay still any longer. Her body picked up that same beat, the rhythm of his mouth, of the waves. She lifted off him, exposing his shaft to the cool air, then lowered herself, taking him back inside.

His teeth closed on her finger. He groaned, then released her hand as his breathing quickened. Inside her, arousal was building again. Hers, his, each feeding the other.

She moved faster, until his hips lifted off the ground.

But no, if she speeded up they’d both climax, and she wasn’t ready for this to end. If she could, she’d make it last forever.

Forever?

She stopped moving, dimly aware of his frustrated groan. Gazing down, she tried to make out his features in the dusky light, but only his eyes were clearly visible, slitted now as he struggled for control.

Forever? Confused, she shook her head to clear it, but instead the dizziness returned. She closed her eyes and held still, trying to think. This had nothing to do with forever. She was going home tomorrow, would never see him again. Her life was just starting, and forever was way down the road.

This man was her initiation into adulthood. He was teaching her about her own sexuality.

Yes, that’s what this afternoon was about. That’s all it was.

Feeling sane again, she realized his body was trembling, his fingers biting into her hips. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“The beach.” The words grated out. “Tell me what’s happening now.”

He was so big and strong, yet he was letting her set the pace, using every ounce of will power to hold his body in check.

She turned her face to the sun, keeping her eyes closed a few seconds, then opening them slowly to the brightness.

Below, a couple strolled into view. “There’s an older man and woman. Grey-haired, naked, walking at the edge of the water. Arms around each other’s waists. They look like they’ve been in love forever.”

Yes, here was what forever looked like. One day she’d find a relationship like theirs. “A love that survives highs and lows, that builds a family and a home, that starts out strong and grows even more beautiful each year.”

“Or they’re brand-new lovers. Just met each other this afternoon.”

Oops, she hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts out loud. Lucky he’d thought she was talking about the couple on the beach, not revealing her own dreams, or she might’ve spoiled the mood.

She replayed his words—such a different perspective from her own. “New lovers? Why not? This is a magical place.”

What else could explain the force that had brought her together with this man? They’d met only an hour or two ago, at the special beach she’d discovered on the last day of her holiday. Only magic could have brought sensible Suzanne from Vancouver, Canada, to the adventure of a lifetime.

She sighed with pleasure, watching the sun glint off the froth that tipped the lazy waves. Never would she forget this afternoon. This man. Almost, she wished she knew his name, where he came from, what he did. But those were mundane details. They didn’t belong in a magical fantasy.

His hand cupped her breast, his finger circling her nipple. Then his thumb and finger squeezed gently, and the tension between her legs built again.

“‘Magical,’” he repeated. “Good word. That’s how it felt when I saw you walking toward me.”

She nodded, remembering.

Bathing suit wrapped in a beach towel, sandals dangling from one finger, toes flirting with the lapping waves, she’d been walking into the sun. Her sunglasses were forgotten back at the restaurant, so her eyes squinted to see who was coming toward her. Feeling a little tipsy, more than a little self-conscious about being, for the first time in her life, naked in a public place. But everyone was; that’s why she’d taken off her bikini. That, and the same wine-induced courage that had led her to venture onto a nude beach.

Already a few people had strolled past her, exchanging casual greetings, but she’d felt something different when this man came toward her out of the sunshine. A kind of spark, an energy that seemed to arc between them. Cretan magic.

As he’d moved closer, she realized how tall he was. So tall he made her feel almost petite, an unusual feeling for a girl who was five-foot-ten in bare feet. Then he stopped in front of her, head blocking the sun, and for the first time she saw him clearly. Her heart pounded as fast as if she’d jogged a mile under the hot sun. He was a statue of a Greek god come to life—except with sexy dreads and much better endowed!

Now his voice was a mesmerizing murmur as he said, “It was as if you were coming toward me out of a dream.”

Yes, the whole afternoon, since she’d finished the second carafe of wine at that long, lazy, outdoor lunch, had the feel of a dream. Every girl’s erotic fantasy. And yet, the body beneath her was hard and sweaty, her knees were beginning to tremble from tiredness, the scent in her nostrils was one her imagination couldn’t possibly have conjured.

This was real.

Deep inside, her muscles convulsed and she tightened around him.

He groaned, a rough, masculine sound that made her clench again.

He stroked his fingers down the center of her body. Chin, throat, between her collarbones. Tracing her cleavage, gliding to her navel. And below. She arched back, the movement thrusting her hips forward.

He surged upward, catching her off guard as he plunged deep, and she cried out.

“They’ll hear you,” he warned.

Still, she couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure.

“What are they doing now? The people on the beach?” he demanded.

How could she focus on anything but the sensations he was creating? “One of the gay guys—”

She gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth as he gripped her hips and pulled her down, tight against him. “He’s reading aloud to the other.”

“What’s he reading?”

She gave a surprised laugh. “My vision’s not that good.”

His fingers teased the curls between her thighs. “Your imagination is. Tell me what he’s reading.”

“I, uh…”

He twisted and twined her curls around his fingers, reminding her of a scene from a book her best friend’s sister had loaned her when she was thirteen. A classic, the girl had assured her, then giggled and said that, all the same, she’d better hide it where her parents wouldn’t find it.

His fingers drifted lower and her words came out in little gasps as she panted for breath. “It’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover, except he’s changing it, because they’re gay. He’s saying it’s Lord Chatterley who’s having an affair with the gamekeeper. Oh, sorry, do you know the book?”

“Saw the movie. Sexy.”

“There’s a scene where the gamekeeper threads flowers into his lover’s, um, hair.” Okay, she might be sexy this afternoon, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the word “pubic” aloud.

All the same, he seemed to catch her meaning. “No flowers. Just fingers.” As he spoke, two of those strong fingers pressed gently against her clitoris.

“Fingers are—” She gasped at his touch, at the pressure building inexorably within her. “Fingers are good.”

“Forget the beach,” he commanded. “Look at us now. Look at how we fit together.”

She turned her gaze downward, but her eyes, shocked by the transition from sunlight to shade, were momentarily blind. Disoriented, the only sensation she trusted was the solid heat of the man beneath her. Inside her.

But that was sensation, not…sense. What was she doing, making love—for the third time—with a man she’d just met? A man whose name she didn’t know.

This was crazy. What had happened to sensible Suzie?

Yet, enchantment was in the air, and she was powerless to resist.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You with me?”

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness again, and she looked down at their bodies. “Oh yeah.”

Long reddish-gold tendrils of hair dangled down, glowing even in the dim light, against her breasts. High, small breasts, almost white where her bikini normally covered them, compared to her holiday tan.

Contrasts.

Even her darkest tan was pale compared to his skin.

Her attention focused on the center, the place where their bodies came together. The golden curls of her pubic hair tangled with his black ones. She’d never been with a dark-skinned man before, never seen how beautiful the contrasts could be.

“Stop thinking,” he whispered.

As if he’d clicked a switch, her brain shut off. All that was left was her body. A body that was pure sensation, nothing more, nothing less.

She savored the intoxicating musk of their lovemaking threading through the tangy Cretan scent. Her lips were open, gasping for air, moaning her pleasure, and on those lips she tasted the salt of her own sweat and the deeper, darker musk of his kisses.

Easing herself up, she watched as her body slid free of him, reveling in the sight of the rigid shaft that rose from his curly hair. She’d never seen anything so utterly male in her life.

Then she slid down again, engulfing him, feeling his length and breadth fill her to capacity, thrilling at the way her body opened to take him in. Glorying in the friction, the tension of his flesh sliding against hers, pressing deep into her core.

The sensations twined together, demanding her response, and inside her the pressure built, collecting itself and coiling tight, and tighter.

Suzanne squeezed her thighs together, clenched her internal muscles. She fought against the inevitable, but he was moving faster now and she couldn’t hold back, she had to move with him. She whimpered with tension, pleasure, the need for release, the desire to capture and hold the moment forever.

He arched and cried out. His climax exploded into her, demanding her response. As he pumped, she threw back her head, shut her eyes, and the coil of tension sprang free, unwinding in waves that crashed against him.

Her body dissolved, melted, began to collapse, but his hands held her upright.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, to see the beach. Her head was spinning, her vision blurry, but still she could see sunbathers glancing around, turning to look up. She ducked quickly, feeling even dizzier.

“They heard us,” she whispered, knowing her whole body was blushing as his hands loosed their grip and she slid bonelessly down to cover him.

He was still inside her as her eyelids drooped and sleep claimed her.

Everything after the cave had to be an anticlimax, Jaxon Navarre thought, as he and his sexy blonde emerged from the darkness and started down the goat trail to the beach. They were walking, step by step, back to reality.

Inevitable, but awkward. Easier to have gone when she fell asleep, but Jax wasn’t a guy who’d leave a woman alone and vulnerable.

Not that he could imagine his blonde being vulnerable. She was the most no-holds-barred lover he’d ever had. And he’d had more than his fair share.

Yeah, finding sex had never been a problem. Finding a woman who didn’t see him as some stupid stereotype was a different issue. He’d had girls throw themselves at him to prove they weren’t prejudiced, to taste the exotic, to find out whether black guys really were better hung. They’d wanted him because he was the captain of his high school basketball team, then of his college team—quite a feat for a guy who was only six-foot-three—and now they wanted him because he was going to be a lawyer. A successful, rich one too, if he stuck to his plan.

This woman was different, though. She knew nothing about him, not even his name, and there’d been none of that artificial “Oh, are you black? Honest, I hadn’t noticed” crap.

Too bad he couldn’t pack her up in his duffel bag and take her home to San Fran.

He chuckled. Yeah, like that’d ever work. He would start articles with a very, very high-powered law firm next week, and he’d be on the line to prove himself. No sweat, though. He’d met every test so far, and he would meet this one too.

Tuning in to his surroundings, he saw they’d just emerged from a thicket of scrubby little trees that separated the nude beach from the next one over. He stopped and turned to his companion with a rueful grin. “Hell. Time to put our clothes on.”

She swept a bold glance down, then up, his body. “Pity.”

Juggling her towel, she tried to step into the bottom of her green bikini, and lost her balance. She would have tumbled if he hadn’t caught her shoulders.

Staring into her flushed face, he thought again how gorgeous she was. With her striking features, cloud of wavy golden hair, small breasts perched high on a sleek, slender body, he was almost ready to believe she was a mermaid come to land for one afternoon to weave a spell around him.

Except, his mermaid definitely had legs and was having trouble finding them right now. And those pretty breasts were blushing with something that looked a lot like sunburn. “Are you okay?”

She tossed her hair back and almost lost her balance again. “Sure. Well, maybe a little drunk on wine and sun and sex.”

“Wine? I missed out on wine?”

“At lunch. You have to have wine at lunch on Crete. At least on your last day.” She gave him a dazzling smile.

That smile was a beauty, but her green eyes looked a little unfocused. The beginning of a hangover?

Or just too much sex? His own legs, legs that could play every quarter of a b-ball game without faltering, felt rubbery.

He took her towel and held her arm as she struggled into her bikini. She had trouble with the halter top, fumbling with the ties at the back. He turned her around, scooped her hair out of the way, and fastened her up. A bow, on a special gift. Too bad he wasn’t unwrapping her rather than wrapping her back up. He buried his nose in the nape of her neck, and breathed in the scent of peaches and sex.

Whoa! He was getting horny again. Quickly, he stepped into his own bathing suit.

When he offered her his arm, she slipped her hand through, and they began to walk again.

“You said it’s your last day?” he asked, not sure if he was glad or sorry. An afternoon like this couldn’t have been repeated, could it?

“Yeah. Home tomorrow. How ’bout you?”

“I have a couple more days.” He’d let a law school pal persuade him to come on this holiday, though he hadn’t seen much of Chase since his buddy’d hooked up with that sexy redhead on the long trip over.

“My hotel’s jush…just up there.” She pointed.

She’d slurred her words. He frowned, thinking of the sun-flush on her skin, wondering how much wine she’d drunk. Earlier, she’d seemed in control, but now…Christ, he hadn’t taken advantage of her, had he?

He tugged her to a stop and turned her to face him. “Are you all right?”

“Wonderful!”

“And, you’re okay about this afternoon?”

“Oh yes! I,” she announced firmly, “am sexy.”

He chuckled. “That’s the truth, woman.”

“I am a sexy woman.”

Or a sexy mermaid, he thought. “So, no regrets?”

“No way.”

He’d been right all along. She was every man’s wet dream—a gorgeous, uninhibited, sexy gal who knew exactly what she was doing.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment, and Jax wondered if she’d ask for his name, his number. His ego wished she would; his brain said he didn’t need the complication.

“So, I guess this is it,” he said tentatively.

She nodded, then giggled and held out her hand. “I forgot to say thank you.”

Thank you? “Uh, you too.” He took her hand gently, but she pumped his in a businesslike handshake. She was making it easy, but he couldn’t let it go at that. He kept hold of that slender hand and squeezed it. “It’s been great. Like…the best dream I could imagine.”

She nodded. “Dream. Yes.”

“We should keep it like that, right?” he probed.

“Mmm-hmm. Perfect dream.” She yawned widely. “Time to go back to sleep.”

And with nothing more—no kiss, no good-bye—she turned and walked a little unsteadily, but with hips boldly swaying, the last steps to her hotel.

Jax stared after her as she disappeared through the open door into the dark lobby.

Weird.

But then, the whole afternoon had been weird in the extreme.

As he turned to go, he realized he was still carrying her towel. He should leave it at the desk of her hotel, but…He snorted and shook his head.

Damn it, he wanted the souvenir.