Risky Business Page 23

  When he set his first foot on the bridge, she tensed and pulled away, her neck and body going rigid. Stopping, he kissed her, tenderly, wanting to let her know that she could trust him about this, that he would take care of her and keep her safe over the water. “Close your eyes. I’m not going to let you fall in the water. And even if you did, I’d rescue you all over again.”

  Apparently, that was what she needed to hear because only then did she do as he asked. Though her body trembled the whole way across the bridge, and he wasn’t sure she exhaled until he set her on her feet behind a thick copse of trees, he felt ten feet tall that she’d trusted him.

  She opened her eyes, shifting her focus in rapid-fire succession to the bridge, then the island, then the sky—the seductress gone, replaced by a nervous, vulnerable, skittish creature. He stroked her hair, planted a brief kiss on her lips, then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly up against him. Determined to coax her desire back to the surface, he took her mouth harder than he ever had. His hands delved under her dress again, pushing it up until his fingers splaying against the skin of her stomach.

  This wasn’t the way he wanted to make love to her the first time, somewhere he couldn’t strip her down and worship her body properly, but if he had his way, this would only be the first of many times in the hours, days, and years to come.

  After looking around, he found a soft patch of grass that didn’t seem too wet. He let her go, then spread the blanket out, withdrew his wallet from his back pocket, then sat, resting his back against a tree. He’d never done anything like this, outside, in public, but it was just crazy enough to make sense. If he’d learned anything in the last month, it was that being with Allison was like skydiving: if you could get past the fear of jumping, then all that was left to do was enjoy the ride.

  When he looked up again, her leggings, panties, and boots were in a pile on the grass. With his jacket on, her bare legs, and the fire in her gaze, she was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He motioned her over with a tilt of his head. Her feet straddled his outer thighs and she made to sit, but he stopped her.

  He slid his hands around her hips beneath her dress to cup her ass. He’d touched her flesh back there when they’d been drunk, but he had no specific memory of the shape and feel of her curves in his hands, which was a shame because she felt exquisite—lush and soft and perfect, like the rest of her. He buried his face between her dress-clad thighs.

  Her hands plunged into his hair and she whimpered. He opened his mouth, breathing hot air through the fabric to the center of her. He got his lips involved, then his nose, teasing lightly until her breath caught and her hands fisted in his hair.

  Dizzy with need that was growing more profound by the moment, he coaxed her down to straddle his lap. They kept their upper bodies close, kissing and breathing into each other while hands explored. She lifted his shirt, touching him all over, turning the ache into a coil of raw need. Then her hands slid lower. She pulled on the end of his belt until it unlatched, then made short work of the button and zipper.

  His cock surged up, straining his cotton briefs. She gripped him over the fabric, her touch so provocative that he groaned aloud. His chin fell forward onto her shoulder. He held still for her and allowed himself a moment to simply feel her hand exploring his body with tentative strokes, knowing he was exactly where he was supposed to be, with exactly whom he was supposed to be with.

  She pulled the elastic band down on his boxers and closed her hand over his shaft. Keeping her grip on him, she rocked up and got her mouth close to his ear.

  “You are the hottest man ever.” She gave him a decisive tug, stretching his skin. “And you have the hottest, hugest body I’ve ever seen. Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me?”

  She was lucky he didn’t blow his load right there, with her talking dirty to him like that. He loved it when she cursed, even though he wasn’t doing anything to her at the moment worth cursing about. Time to change that.

  He slid his hand up her thigh below her dress and snuck his index finger between her pussy lips. Her face tipped up to the sky and she released her hold on his cock. “Oh, damn. Theo.”

  He slid his middle finger up against his first finger. She was wet and hot and so damn responsive to every twitch and swirl over her clit. She braced her hands on his shoulders, rocking her hips against his fingers, whimpering like she needed it harder. He increased the pressure of his touch, working in relentless little circles, riveted to the sight of such a beautiful woman coming undone in his arms.

  Then her face fell forward and she pressed her lips to his, looking into his eyes. Those fathomless eyes of hers widened when he pushed his two fingers inside her. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry. He used his other arm like a band around her waist, keeping her lower body locked close to him as he impaled her on his fingers up to his knuckles.

  After a few hard thrusts, he added a thumb to brush against her clit. She gripped his neck, smushing her face against his cheek, her pussy pulsing with the beginning flutters of pleasure.

  He pulled his fingers out and got a condom from his wallet. They all claimed to be lubricated but that was bullshit marketing, so he spit on his hand and gave himself a couple good tugs. With a hand on her waist and another on his cock, he guided her body until his head nudged her entrance.

  “Theo . . .”

  He heard the trepidation in her voice and paused, meeting her gaze.

  “This is my first time since Katie was born. Since she was conceived, practically. I’m nervous.”

  He almost said, “Do you want to stop?” But he figured there was a long way between being nervous and being ready to quit. “It’s just me,” he said instead. That didn’t seem like reassurance enough, so he added, “What are you nervous about?”

  “If I can do it. If I can come . . .”

  He thrust up and pulled down, seating himself about halfway inside her. If that was all she was worried about, then they were going to be just fine, because he was going to make sure she came, no matter what. The air rushed out of her in a huge whoosh of an exhale. Her mouth opened, her eyes rolled up. Theo smiled. Yeah, she was going to be just fine.

  But damn, she was tight, too tight. He didn’t have much thrusting power in this position, so he let gravity do its thing while he kissed her, deep, with long, slow strokes of his tongue against hers. He could actually feel her muscles relaxing all around him, and her jaw relaxed and her gaze softened again.

  “It’s just me,” he repeated, because for reasons he didn’t understand, that mattered to him. It mattered that she was comfortable in his presence, that this—what they were doing now—was just what they did, the two of them. It wasn’t some huge deal, no matter how profound it felt, because he was going to make love to her all the time, every chance he got, so this, right now, in the grass, with the encroaching clouds dimming the colors of sunset and casting the trees and water in shadow, was only a drop in the bucket of what they were going to do together.

  Her pussy did a slow slide down his cock, excruciating because his body was screaming out for motion, but she was in the driver’s seat for this one. When she was all the way onto him, he ground his teeth together and groaned, fighting against a sharp wave of pleasure at the sensation.

  “Shh,” she said. Her fingers lighted over his cheek. “It’s just me.”

  They shared a quiet smile. With his hands on her waist, guiding her movement, she rocked in a slow building rhythm that was, for Theo, the most agonizing bliss imaginable.

  Then, the unthinkable happened. A peel of thunder sounded, the clouds opened up, and it started to pour.

  Their shocked gazes locked together. “Oh, my God, Allison, I can’t believe—”

  Her face screwed up and he knew she was going to cry, but what could he do? His mind was racing a mile a minute. Here it was the most incredible moment of his life a
nd the stupid fucking rain had to ruin it by making her cry. Then a smile broke out on her lips. She threw her head back and laughed. Actually laughed.

  “Bring it, Universe!” she called to the clouds.

  Maybe this wasn’t ruined after all. He rocked her a little, getting his cock hard inside her again. “I can get this blanket out from under me and cover us, or we can go back to the landing.”

  She blinked water out of her eyes and shook her head.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “I can get—”

  She set her hands on his cheeks and kissed him to shut him up. “I know what I said last night about me not doing it on a boat, but I’ve changed my mind. Water’s my curse. It’s worked its way into every important moment of my life, including so many important moments with you. I’ll take you in the rain. I’ll take you on a boat. I’ll take you however you come to me.”

  He kissed her again, in reverence to her magnificent, indomitable spirit. He’d take her any way she came to him, too. She started up her slow movement again, squeezing her muscles, milking him with slow precision.

  He pulled her arms out of the jacket, then slid it over both their heads, creating their own private haven from the storm. The rain was cold and soaking, but she was spared from the brunt of it by his jacket, and that was good enough for him.

  He didn’t let them move for too long before getting his fingers back on her clit. She’d been worried about coming, and for all her courage about the rain, it couldn’t have helped her arousal, so his number one priority had to be setting her mind at ease, letting her know that they weren’t in a hurry, and that he was going to do everything in his power to get her where she needed to go. He was so focused on her pleasure, he nearly forgot about his own except for the shot of ecstasy with every motion of her hips, every squeeze of her pussy muscles.

  It was dark and hot under the jacket, with their heads and bodies so close together and both of them breathing hard. Like a cocoon, a place out of time just for them, two people whom the world had damaged, but who, together, were whole again. They left all the noise and the weight back on solid ground—her fears, his fears, the pasts that wouldn’t leave them alone, the unfairness of the world that had cast them together.

  She whimpered against his cheek, her body shaking as she got closer. He kept up the swirl of his fingers on her clit and set his other hand on her fabric-covered breast. Her nipple was tight and poking against the wet material. He rolled it between the pads of his fingers until her whimpers grew more frantic, mirroring her movements.

  “Theo, I can’t hold back . . . I’m going to . . .”

  He already knew she was by the tightening of her body, the little tremors in her pussy pulsing against his cock. He took her waist firmly in his hands and lifted her enough that he could thrust up hard like his body screamed out to. She clung to him, crying out, her breath releasing in hot bursts against his cheek. Her pussy pulsed, telling him it was okay to get selfish now.

  He moved his hand higher to brace against her back, then rolled them over, into the wet grass. The jacket fell off, but he couldn’t help it. He’d held back for too long and all he could do now was obey the commands of his body, pounding her harder, claiming her like some fucking Neanderthal. He came hard, growling, grinding into her. The feeling was almost too much, just for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, recovering, then rolled off of her and sat, then gathered her in his lap and got the jacket back over their heads. They were both soaked through, but he didn’t want the rain falling on her face any longer than necessary.

  She cuddled into him, humming her satisfaction.

  “You make me happy. I never thought that was possible,” he whispered.

  She raised her head and looked at him. Tears or rain, or both, streamed down her cheeks. She looked spent and full of wonder. “Can you say that in English, please?”

  Damn nervous tic. “You had nothing to be nervous about. You were perfect.” He wasn’t sure why he suddenly had cold feet about telling her what he’d originally said, but it could wait. He could savor his discovery in private for a little while yet. They had all the time in the world.

  One thing was clear to him, though. As clear as what he wanted from Allison. This wasn’t the place or the time, but he had a lot he had to get this off his chest—the ugliest part of his past and his hopes for his and Allison’s future.

  “Allison, we need to talk.”

  “We are talking. And cuddling.” As though to illustrate her point, she wiggled more snuggly against him.

  “I care about you. A lot. And I want to be with you.”

  She drew a heart on his shirt with her finger. “I want to be with you, too.”

  “But for me, what that means is that I can’t work for you anymore.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The evening dragged on.

  Theo had made his case, and it was a good one. He didn’t want to be Allison’s employee. She got that, she really did. She didn’t want him to be her employee either. But the declaration came too fast on the heels of one of the most profound experiences of her life for her to process it all. She’d asked for a few hours to think, and they’d agreed to meet up after Katie was asleep to talk things through.

  Chelsea was off somewhere at a gig, so the timing was perfect.

  She sat on the couch in her newly restored living room, cradling a cup of tea as she waited for him. Duke and his crew had done a terrific job on the room. The new wood laminate flooring was top quality, as was the wall and ceiling repair and paint. The fireplace didn’t work yet, but Theo had asked her the day before to be patient because he had a surprise coming for her regarding that.

  She’d needed time apart from Theo to think because, the whole ride home from the sandbank, she hadn’t been able to shake the panic that no sooner had her life righted itself that everything had gone sideways again. That hollow, hummingbird feeling of being close to drowning had hit her hard and was with her still.

  She released her next exhale on a huff. Silly Allison. This wasn’t scary. It shouldn’t be. As Theo pointed out today, this was just him and just her. This was just the two of them, Allison and Theo, the same people who’d made love in the rain that afternoon—so, then, why did she feel like she was drowning now?

  She didn’t remember many specifics about her near drowning. Only flashes and impressions and what came to her in dreams. Water in her face, in her mouth, cold and powerful, like it had latched onto her ankles and pulled. The palette of the memory was green/gray and fireworks behind her eyes like flashes of hot, white fear.

  The office’s back door opened. “Hey,” Theo said.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them wide, breathing through the rush of memory, bottling up the hummingbird. Finding the peace at the center of the cyclone of emotions, she held fast to it and let it grow. This wasn’t like drowning. Theo wasn’t like drowning. He’d saved her from it.

  “Hey, yourself,” she said, standing.

  Theo stood just inside the door, holding two mugs and looking as anxious as she felt. “I brought you hot chocolate, but you already have something.”

  “It’s just tea. I’d rather have chocolate. Thank you.”

  He set the mugs on the coffee table, then, after a moment of awkward silence, he muttered something in French and pulled her into an embrace.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She rested her cheek on his chest and let out a long, slow breath. This was nothing like drowning. Not at all. “Definitely.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You looked upset when I came in. Was that because of me?”

  She thought about demurring, but that wouldn’t be productive. They were finally talking, finally being honest with each other, so she owed it to them both to tell the truth. “Yes. I don’t want to lose you.”

  His hold on her tightened. “I’d like to tell y
ou something about my past, something I started to tell you about this afternoon, but I lost my nerve. I need you to know this before we get any further in whatever this is between us. It’s not a happy story, and I’m not proud of what it says about me, but I need you to hear it.”

  Just like that, she was hollow-boned again, her heart racing. “Okay.”

  “Let’s sit down.”

  When they were settled on the couch, he handed her a mug, then set his hand on her knee. “I was a hockey prodigy. My mother and father figured that out when I was young, maybe six or seven. I was an only child and, other than our church—which was a very conservative Catholic church that was almost cultlike in its hold on the community—hockey was our life. My parents liked to talk about how they sacrificed everything for me and my hockey career.” He huffed and shook his head. “Even when I was ten years old, they referred to it as my career.”

  “That must have been so much pressure on you.”

  “It was fine for a long time because I loved the sport, but you’re right. It was too much. They leveraged everything and quit their jobs to follow me in the junior majors, which is the most elite level of junior hockey. Most people in the business think of it as the scouting grounds for the NHL.”

  “Your parents sound like those obsessed stage parents you hear about, except with you, it was hockey.”

  “Yes. Precisely. But by the time I was sixteen and in the junior majors, on that trajectory for greatness, the weight of who I was, of what my parents expected of me, and what our church expected of me, became unbearable. Before my games, prayer services were led. The whole church community traveled across Canada to watch me play.

  “The Father sat me down when I was seventeen and talked to me about giving back to the church, about tithing when I went pro to help save their failing finances. My parents used to pray for God to help me go pro out of high school to save them from their debts, too. Everyone’s futures hinged on mine, or so they made me feel, year after year.”