technically I hadn’t left the hair salon, but close enough.”
“You?” He squeezed my hand and looked me full in the face.
I could only meet his gaze for a second before I had to pull away. This was the big scary black hole I’d let dominate my life for the past five years, four months, and I’d lost track of how many days. I swallowed hard and squared my shoulders. “Cost my Dad a crap-ton of money.”
“Shit.” He drummed a finger on the table. “Well, shit.”
“I have some trust issues.” I hoped the cliché would help us laugh it off.
Neither of us even chuckled.
“Well,” he spoke on a sigh, “if dealing with MP and Vaughan has taught me nothing else, it’s that if I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”
Saying the words out loud made the hole smaller somehow, shrunk it, made it less dramatic and more of a manageable sadness. I laughed, breathing deep, surrounded by the combination of sea air and cigarettes I’d come to associate with Randy. “How is it you’re still single? Guys who call when they say they will are rare.”
“And girls who don’t freak out when a guy tells her he went through recovery and has kids with a lesbian couple are also rare.”
“Yeah, well … wait.” I jerked on his arm, using it to leverage myself to standing. “You didn’t tell me they were your kids.”
I closed the distance between us, and he shifted around so I could plant myself between his knees. It was a toss-up which of us had the naughtier grin.
He put his hands on my butt, holding me in place. “Is that a deal-breaker?” His steady massage stirred up all kinds of heat. “Because jacking off on a gurney behind a curtain in a clinic, well, it’s not the same as…”
As what?
All of a sudden I couldn’t think of much besides the more conventional way to make babies, and the way he kept stroking my ass made it pretty plain his mind had headed in a similar direction. A tiny thread of excitement got caught in my throat.
This was
it
.
Chapter 13
Though I’d only known Randy for a day or so, I’d been waiting a good long time to get to this moment. Sitting in his little cabin, his eyes as dark as the forest at night, the tension vibrating from him resonated with the mix of fear and excitement dancing through me. The regular rhythm of the waves gave us a soundtrack, and for a long moment we paused, taking each other in.
Then he stood, wrapping his arms around me and crushing me against his body. He paused with his lips so close the warmth of his breath brushed over me, and then he dove in. This was no tentative will-he-or-won’t-he press on my lips. No, the hunger in me roared from deep in my belly, heated by parts of my anatomy even further south. It knocked us both sideways, landing us on the bunk.
Randy squinted, as if he couldn’t quite bring me into focus without his glasses. He lay beneath me, stretched full out and apparently enjoying his fuzzy view. “You’re making it hard to keep my pants on,” he said.
I quieted him with another kiss, playing with his lips, nipping at the corner of his mouth. His hands slipped under my shirt and molded to my back.
“No bra,” he said, the words more of a gasp against my neck.
I just smiled and worked my legs in between his, pressing my belly against his hard length and continuing an onslaught of kisses. I wanted him, plain and simple. The retreat, Kirk, his past and mine all faded, softer than the sound of the waves out on the beach. My inner Sex Diva came out and I didn’t even try to fight her.
It was time to make something new.
“You’re a good kisser,” I said, easing away so I could meet his gaze.
He smiled, a look both mocking and amused. “Horn player.”
“And your good hands?” I gasped as he tweaked my nipple.
“Piano.” He shifted his weight, pushing our groins together and leaving no doubt as to what his little head wanted. “Let me see you,” he whispered, reaching for the hem of my stretchy top.
He
“You?” He squeezed my hand and looked me full in the face.
I could only meet his gaze for a second before I had to pull away. This was the big scary black hole I’d let dominate my life for the past five years, four months, and I’d lost track of how many days. I swallowed hard and squared my shoulders. “Cost my Dad a crap-ton of money.”
“Shit.” He drummed a finger on the table. “Well, shit.”
“I have some trust issues.” I hoped the cliché would help us laugh it off.
Neither of us even chuckled.
“Well,” he spoke on a sigh, “if dealing with MP and Vaughan has taught me nothing else, it’s that if I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”
Saying the words out loud made the hole smaller somehow, shrunk it, made it less dramatic and more of a manageable sadness. I laughed, breathing deep, surrounded by the combination of sea air and cigarettes I’d come to associate with Randy. “How is it you’re still single? Guys who call when they say they will are rare.”
“And girls who don’t freak out when a guy tells her he went through recovery and has kids with a lesbian couple are also rare.”
“Yeah, well … wait.” I jerked on his arm, using it to leverage myself to standing. “You didn’t tell me they were your kids.”
I closed the distance between us, and he shifted around so I could plant myself between his knees. It was a toss-up which of us had the naughtier grin.
He put his hands on my butt, holding me in place. “Is that a deal-breaker?” His steady massage stirred up all kinds of heat. “Because jacking off on a gurney behind a curtain in a clinic, well, it’s not the same as…”
As what?
All of a sudden I couldn’t think of much besides the more conventional way to make babies, and the way he kept stroking my ass made it pretty plain his mind had headed in a similar direction. A tiny thread of excitement got caught in my throat.
This was
it
.
Chapter 13
Though I’d only known Randy for a day or so, I’d been waiting a good long time to get to this moment. Sitting in his little cabin, his eyes as dark as the forest at night, the tension vibrating from him resonated with the mix of fear and excitement dancing through me. The regular rhythm of the waves gave us a soundtrack, and for a long moment we paused, taking each other in.
Then he stood, wrapping his arms around me and crushing me against his body. He paused with his lips so close the warmth of his breath brushed over me, and then he dove in. This was no tentative will-he-or-won’t-he press on my lips. No, the hunger in me roared from deep in my belly, heated by parts of my anatomy even further south. It knocked us both sideways, landing us on the bunk.
Randy squinted, as if he couldn’t quite bring me into focus without his glasses. He lay beneath me, stretched full out and apparently enjoying his fuzzy view. “You’re making it hard to keep my pants on,” he said.
I quieted him with another kiss, playing with his lips, nipping at the corner of his mouth. His hands slipped under my shirt and molded to my back.
“No bra,” he said, the words more of a gasp against my neck.
I just smiled and worked my legs in between his, pressing my belly against his hard length and continuing an onslaught of kisses. I wanted him, plain and simple. The retreat, Kirk, his past and mine all faded, softer than the sound of the waves out on the beach. My inner Sex Diva came out and I didn’t even try to fight her.
It was time to make something new.
“You’re a good kisser,” I said, easing away so I could meet his gaze.
He smiled, a look both mocking and amused. “Horn player.”
“And your good hands?” I gasped as he tweaked my nipple.
“Piano.” He shifted his weight, pushing our groins together and leaving no doubt as to what his little head wanted. “Let me see you,” he whispered, reaching for the hem of my stretchy top.
He
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