occasions when his knee bothered him. Ice packs and rest did the trick most of the time, along with some gentle massage.
“You are so good at this. I should marry you, Shortcake,” Key murmured.
She tilted her head to one side, trying to bring his face into focus. Things were still a little fuzzy. “Love you, too, baby,” she purred.
He grinned. “You don’t mean it. But it still feels damn good. I haven’t had a good rubdown in a long time.”
“ ‘Course I love you. You’re m’ bes’ friend.”
She continued to rub his knee and thigh muscles. Feeling sleepy, she laid her head onto his chest, hearing the slow hum of his breathing, feeling his arm draped over her shoulder.
“Hey, Key?”
“Yeah?”
“You really doing that abstinence thing?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
She stroked his leg more slowly, her eyes closed. Poor Key. No woman to touch him. No one to feel his strong hands on her body, the way he was rubbing her arm.
She caressed his thigh, snuggling against him to a more comfortable position. Her head was on his stomach now. He sighed and the rhythm of his hand on her arm changed. His thumb brushed the side of her breast in a way that awakened a response below the buzz of alcohol high. Key—her rock, her delight. She purred and arched her body to increase the pressure of his hand against her breast.
Just above her head, she heard a quick inhalation of breath.
“Ah, Shortcake baby, what you doing to me?” he asked with a shaky laugh.
And through the hazy fog in her brain, she became aware of the thickness between his legs so close to her cheek. Without opening her eyes, she smiled and deliberately rubbed her cheek against the bulge. With a gentle moan, Key spread his legs.
She was swept with a desire to sink deeper into his warmth, experience more of the sensuality. She absorbed the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the solid warmth of his thigh under her hand. Her blood surged and ebbed with the rhythm of his heartbeat, the scent of his clothes and of him.
His stomach next to her ear rumbled as he cleared his throat.
“Taylor, I think you’d better quit now.” His voice came out hesitant and husky.
Crystal was puzzled for a moment; then her breath caught with understanding. She lifted her head to stare at him. His expression was longing, regretful. And she knew she didn’t want to stop this—this thing that was building. Her and Key. Alone. Together.
“But,” her voice came out a whisper, “I like it.” She reached her hand tentatively toward his groin and the hidden power there that called to her with spellbinding appeal.
Key cleared his throat again, a harsh bark, and snatched his hand back from her arm. “Me, too. A little too much.” He spoke through clenched jaws.
She moved her hand again on his jean-clad thigh, up tantalizingly close to his manhood, spreading her fingers with slow enjoyment.
“Then why should we stop?” she spoke boldly. Her head was buzzing, whether from alcohol or excitement she didn’t know, didn’t care. It had been so long since she’d been with a man and this felt so good. This was Key, and he was all hers at the moment.
“I know there’s a damn good reason why we shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“Name one.”
He half groaned and half laughed, dropping his head back onto the couch cushion, thrusting his pelvis against her hand. “Baby, right now I can’t think of my own damn name.”
Some dark, deep, un-drunk part of Crystal’s mind shouted a warning that she’d regret this, that it was crazy. But she didn’t want to listen to that part. She burned for Key at the moment. She wanted to belong to him totally, to give in to every urge she’d ever repressed. This one night she was going to let go.
Crystal swung herself upright and straddled his lap. Key relaxed back, his eyes half-shut, grinning at her like some eager puppy. She began to unbutton his shirt. It was extremely soft. But not as soft as the dark skin
“You are so good at this. I should marry you, Shortcake,” Key murmured.
She tilted her head to one side, trying to bring his face into focus. Things were still a little fuzzy. “Love you, too, baby,” she purred.
He grinned. “You don’t mean it. But it still feels damn good. I haven’t had a good rubdown in a long time.”
“ ‘Course I love you. You’re m’ bes’ friend.”
She continued to rub his knee and thigh muscles. Feeling sleepy, she laid her head onto his chest, hearing the slow hum of his breathing, feeling his arm draped over her shoulder.
“Hey, Key?”
“Yeah?”
“You really doing that abstinence thing?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
She stroked his leg more slowly, her eyes closed. Poor Key. No woman to touch him. No one to feel his strong hands on her body, the way he was rubbing her arm.
She caressed his thigh, snuggling against him to a more comfortable position. Her head was on his stomach now. He sighed and the rhythm of his hand on her arm changed. His thumb brushed the side of her breast in a way that awakened a response below the buzz of alcohol high. Key—her rock, her delight. She purred and arched her body to increase the pressure of his hand against her breast.
Just above her head, she heard a quick inhalation of breath.
“Ah, Shortcake baby, what you doing to me?” he asked with a shaky laugh.
And through the hazy fog in her brain, she became aware of the thickness between his legs so close to her cheek. Without opening her eyes, she smiled and deliberately rubbed her cheek against the bulge. With a gentle moan, Key spread his legs.
She was swept with a desire to sink deeper into his warmth, experience more of the sensuality. She absorbed the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the solid warmth of his thigh under her hand. Her blood surged and ebbed with the rhythm of his heartbeat, the scent of his clothes and of him.
His stomach next to her ear rumbled as he cleared his throat.
“Taylor, I think you’d better quit now.” His voice came out hesitant and husky.
Crystal was puzzled for a moment; then her breath caught with understanding. She lifted her head to stare at him. His expression was longing, regretful. And she knew she didn’t want to stop this—this thing that was building. Her and Key. Alone. Together.
“But,” her voice came out a whisper, “I like it.” She reached her hand tentatively toward his groin and the hidden power there that called to her with spellbinding appeal.
Key cleared his throat again, a harsh bark, and snatched his hand back from her arm. “Me, too. A little too much.” He spoke through clenched jaws.
She moved her hand again on his jean-clad thigh, up tantalizingly close to his manhood, spreading her fingers with slow enjoyment.
“Then why should we stop?” she spoke boldly. Her head was buzzing, whether from alcohol or excitement she didn’t know, didn’t care. It had been so long since she’d been with a man and this felt so good. This was Key, and he was all hers at the moment.
“I know there’s a damn good reason why we shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“Name one.”
He half groaned and half laughed, dropping his head back onto the couch cushion, thrusting his pelvis against her hand. “Baby, right now I can’t think of my own damn name.”
Some dark, deep, un-drunk part of Crystal’s mind shouted a warning that she’d regret this, that it was crazy. But she didn’t want to listen to that part. She burned for Key at the moment. She wanted to belong to him totally, to give in to every urge she’d ever repressed. This one night she was going to let go.
Crystal swung herself upright and straddled his lap. Key relaxed back, his eyes half-shut, grinning at her like some eager puppy. She began to unbutton his shirt. It was extremely soft. But not as soft as the dark skin
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