Delicious Do-Over (15 page)

Lindsey hadn’t hounded him since late morning so when she heard him grunt, she decided to give it one more shot. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the doctor?” She set their drinks down on the glass table next to him, a beer for him, wine for her.

“Say that one more time, Linds.” His voice carried a very definite warning. “Just one more…”

“Or what?” She grinned as she sat beside him on the couch, curling her legs beneath her.

At her dismissive tone, his brows lifted and he grabbed her wrist. “I’ll tear off your clothes and make love to you in ways you’ve never dreamed possible.”

She laughed, but the sound came out funny when she nervously swallowed at the same time. He looked positively yummy sitting there with his hair still damp from his shower, wearing unsnapped jeans, no shirt, his bare feet propped up on the brown leather ottoman that matched the couch.

Outside the large glass window the sky was cloudless, a perfect match to the sparkling blue ocean, yet his hazel eyes seemed more green today.

She pried his fingers from her wrist, and his hand dropped on her thigh. He slid his palm up a few inches, burrowing his fingers under the hem of her shorts. “You’re not allowed to move around,” she reminded him. “Furthermore, I’m not sure a beer is smart. What if you end up having to take a painkiller?”

“One lousy beer. Please. And I already told you, I don’t take painkillers.”

“Testy, aren’t we?”

“Not testy. I’m horny.”

That startled a laugh out of her. But she didn’t blush. Another surprise. “You can’t be.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at his lap.

Her gaze followed to the straining zipper of his jeans. Her pulse quickened. “Not advisable,” she said weakly.

He gave her a tolerant smile. “There are a lot of things we could do that won’t hurt my shoulder.”

She blinked, moistened her lips. This time the blush came with a vengeance.

“All the kissing. You looking the way you do…what did you expect?”

She tugged at her sloppy ponytail. “Looking the way I do? Very funny.”

“You’re beautiful, Lindsey.” He lightly squeezed her thigh and, using his elbow for support, leaned over to kiss her. He fell short by a couple of inches. “Move closer.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled. “Then come here.”

With mock annoyance, she scooted her butt closer to him, her mind racing ahead to the luscious things he would do to her.

He shoved his hand under her T-shirt and cupped her breast through her bra. “Why did you wear this?”

“My bra?”

“You knew we were staying in.” He unfastened the front clasp, pushed the cup aside and fingered her nipple.

“I always wear one,” she muttered, irritated with her banality, but turned on, too.

“Take it off, but leave the shirt on.”

She frowned, but did the magic trick she’d learned the first day she was forced to change in a locker room. In seconds she laid the bra on the couch and waited.

He smoothed the T-shirt over her breasts, and stared at her nipples poking at the soft fabric, his expression one of pleasure and an odd fascination. Lowering his head, he dampened the material in both spots with his tongue and then leaned back to inspect his handiwork.

“Your version of a wet T-shirt contest?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“No contest. You win hands down.” He leaned back in and blew lightly on the damp material clinging to her hard nipples.

The feel of his warm breath on her covered breasts did amazing things to her entire body. She put her hand on his chest, let it slide down to the waistband of his jeans.

“First your shorts,” he whispered.

She understood immediately and swung her feet to the floor. The blinds were open but the reflective glass prevented anyone from looking inside. Lifting her butt, she got rid of her shorts.

“Your panties,” he said, his eyes hooded and watchful.

Without hesitation, she slid them off, her thoughts flashing back to the first time he’d asked her to undress. She’d been too shy. Amazingly, that was only days ago. How could something that felt so major happen in such a short time?

Her T-shirt wasn’t nearly long enough to hide everything, and as she curled into a safer position, she considered with some amusement that she hadn’t exactly been reborn.

Rick smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking. He reached under her shirt again, kneaded each breast and teased her nipples. “Let me use my mouth on you,” he murmured in a low husky voice, and then trailed his splayed fingers down her front, stopping to urge her thighs apart. “I want to make you come.”

She automatically tensed. “But you’ll hurt your shoulder.”

He smiled, kissed her chin. “I don’t plan on using it.”

The inevitable blush warmed her skin. So did his unbelievably deft and soothing hand, working its magic and melting her resistance.

“It’s okay,” he said. “No pressure.”

“No.” She swallowed hard. “I want you to.”

“I know it’s a very intimate thing. Not something I practice freely,” he said, and she frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do. I mean…really?” The idea was more a curiosity to her than anything else. “Really.”

“How many times have you done it? Less than five?”

“Lindsey,” he said, his tone part rebuke, part amazement, his small smile infinitely patient.

“Sorry, I uh—” She clamped her mouth shut, possibly more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her whole life.

He laughed, gingerly twisted around on the couch and slid his hand up her thigh. “Lie back.”

She hadn’t yet gotten over her gaffe, and for her, the mood had decidedly mellowed. Her gaze shifted to his fly. Clearly, he didn’t share that problem. The knowledge renewed her excitement. “Will you take off your jeans?”

“I might need some help.” He slowly unzipped his fly, careful of the snug fit over his arousal.

Lindsey got up and tugged his jeans down his hips. Then stared at his extended hand. “It’ll be easier in bed,” he said, and she helped pull him to his feet.

He held her hand and led her into the bedroom. Her heart raced, knowing what was about to happen. She only wished she didn’t feel so awkward, and when he told her to sit at the edge of the bed, she didn’t protest or even bother to think, she simply obeyed.

“Lie back,” he told her, urging her down with two gentle hands at her shoulders.

It was a scary, vulnerable feeling to have her feet on the floor, him spreading her legs as she reclined.

“Relax,” he whispered as he lowered himself.

“That can’t be comfortable—”

“Shh.” He crouched between her legs, stroked her with his hand before entering her with his finger.

She went limp and closed her eyes. The tingling started low in her belly, just like it always did, traveling along her nerve endings, into her chest, out to her arms. He took his time, leisurely circling her clit with his thumb. With his other hand, he pushed her shirt up, touched her breast. She shivered with longing, the familiar ache already starting to build inside her.

He put his mouth between her legs. She jerked, opened her eyes. She stared at the top of his head, his long hair brushing her belly, falling on her thighs. As with his thumb and finger, he was in no hurry. His tongue laved and dipped, his moist breath making her hot and cold at the same time. Her head fell back and her lids tightened until all she saw were pricks of light piercing the darkness.

Her body began to tense up, but it wasn’t because she was nervous. It was the way he licked and sucked at her clit, the way his fingers pushed into her. When he flicked at her with his tongue pointed and hard, she grabbed the covers and gasped.

Without warning she started to convulse. The speed was so startling, the spasms so intense, she tried to push his head away from her, but he stayed with her, the urgency of his mouth feeding her sensual panic until she had no fight left in her. She went limp again, breathing hard.

Rick stretched himself out, pressed his mouth over hers. She sampled herself on his lips, the unfamiliar taste oddly erotic. He felt a bit heavy with only his good shoulder to lessen his weight.

“I think you set a record,” he murmured, chuckling against her mouth.

“Holy shit,” she murmured back.

He lifted his head, and stared at her in total astonishment.

She covered her mouth with her hand, muttering a muffled, “I’ve never said that before in my life.”

Rick laughed, really laughed, then grimaced when he bumped his shoulder on her knee.

“Get up.” She carefully shoved at his chest. “Come up here.” She scrambled away from the edge, and pulled him up by his good arm.

“Wait,” he said. “Stop. It’s better if I do this.” He sprawled out beside her, managing to grab her T-shirt and yanking it up.

“You faker.”

“I’m not. It hurts, but I want that shirt off.”

She didn’t hesitate getting rid of it, and sat facing him without a stitch on. Her pale skin had blotched, but he didn’t seem to mind, or notice.

He reached out and touched her breast. “Get a condom,” he told her, adding, “Please,” when she made no move.

She swallowed back the last bit of nervousness. “Not yet. I have my own plans.” She used the tip of her finger to touch the silky crown of his penis, and then bent her head and followed the same path with her tongue.

He hissed in a breath. “You don’t have to do this.”

Moisture had formed at the tip and she lapped at it, swirling her tongue as she’d seen him do to her breasts. Feeling brave, she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, startled at his jerk when her teeth scraped him.

She straightened. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” The tenderness in his smile made her heart flutter. The rest of her melted. “Seriously, Linds. You need to get a condom.”

This time she did as he asked, then passed him the packet, afraid her hands would tremble.

He quickly tore it open, sheathed himself. Mindless of his shoulder, he caught her hips and urged her to straddle him. She readily sank onto him, unprepared for the depth of the penetration. She clenched around him, then just started to move when he threw back his head and cried out her name.

The depressing thought churned bitterly in her stomach. Darn it, she couldn’t go there. It wasn’t fair, not to Mia and Shelby, who were counting on her to return to New York, her batteries recharged and ready to tackle the new business. It wasn’t fair to Rick, either. The only thing he’d signed up for was a week of no-strings fun.

And as for herself, this was supposed to be a week of renewal, saying goodbye to the old her, hello to a braver, more interesting Lindsey Shaw. Not a sniveling crybaby who’d fallen so hard for Rick that she could barely think about that inevitable last time they’d make love, that final glimpse of him as she boarded a plane knowing she’d never see him again.

They could promise to talk from time to time, and they probably would, but that would fade over the months and wouldn’t prolonged contact be more painful anyway?

Nope, she wasn’t gonna think about it. She gave her head a shake. She wanted to be stronger and braver. Better she start this minute or totally ruin her last day with him. She noticed some posters on the wall, large stills of giant waves. She moved closer and saw they were photographs of surfers who looked like small toy figures against the monster waves that had to be over thirty feet high. Why anyone would put themselves at risk like that was totally mind-blowing.

Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard the voices behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw two teenage boys. When he saw that she noticed them, the taller one gave her a cocky grin and strutted toward her.

“Can I help you with something?” He had to be about sixteen, but he had a deep voice, slightly accented with a local inflection she was beginning to recognize.

“Do you work here?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Oh, well—”

The other boy stepped up and shouldered the first one, his big dark eyes instantly familiar to her. “Dude, better chill. That’s the boss’s lady.”

She smiled. “Hi, Ryan.”

He jerked his chin by way of greeting.

Wisely, she refrained from asking how he was doing in front of his friend. “You work here, too?” she asked him.

Ryan nodded. “I’m a shaper.” When the other kid gave him a dry look, he added defensively, “Boss is teaching me.”

She had no idea what being a shaper meant but it sounded like an important job judging by the pride in his voice. “I’m Lindsey,” she said to the other boy.

“I’m Kai.” He boldly sized her up. “You live here?”

“I’m visiting.”

“Just the young man I wanted to see.” Rick’s voice came from the back of the store, making Ryan cringe.

He muttered a curse under his breath, darted a brief, pleading look at Lindsey, then hung his head and shuffled in his rubber flip-flops toward the back.

“Lindsey, I’ll only be a few minutes,” Rick called out.

She started to tell him to take his time then realized Ryan wouldn’t appreciate that. Uncomfortable under Kai’s intense scrutiny, she turned back to the posters.

“Ever seen him surf?” Kai asked, his dark piercing gaze swinging from her to one of the posters.

“Who?” she asked.

“Boss,” he said impatiently, his gaze narrowing as if he didn’t trust her. Odd because he’d been flirty at first.

She focused on the poster, moving in closer. Her gaze zeroed in on Rick’s name in black letters in the corner, then widened on the man partly crouched on the surfboard, an enormous wall of water curling over him.

“That was Waimea at thirty.” It was Wally’s voice behind her. “Kai, you have work to do outside in the shed.”

Lindsey slowly turned around, vaguely aware of Kai’s long parting look as he wove his way around the racks to the door.

“Don’t mind him,” Wally said. “He doesn’t understand why Rick won’t go pro anymore. Sees everything and everyone as an obstacle.”

She frowned. “Pro surfing?”

Wally grinned. “Not a fan, huh?”

She gave a sheepish shrug, her attention inexorably going back to the poster. “I mean, I knew Rick surfed, although…did he tell you what happened the other day?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stroked his wiry beard. “He’s chewing Ryan out now. The boy will think twice before taking on those kinds of sets again. I guarantee you that.” He fixed his gaze on the poster. “The kids all listen to Rick. They know he gives a damn about them, makes sure they go to school, gives them jobs. That’s the only reason he has this shop.” Wally chuckled. “It ain’t because he makes any money at it.”

Lindsey remembered something Pono said about Rick being a world-class surfer. At the time she’d been too frightened for his safety to give the remark any thought. “And that’s why he didn’t stay a pro?”

Wally gave a noncommittal shrug. “He won a lot of big prize money, but he never committed to the sport. If you wanna be recognized, you gotta travel, you gotta surf full-time, accept endorsements. The big sponsors, they all want him.” He shrugged again. “Can’t treat it like a hobby. It’s all about commitment, plain and simple.”

She lifted her chin. “Well, you’ll probably hate me for saying this, but I’m glad he’s not serious about it.” Her gaze went back to the poster. He looked beautiful, graceful, an athlete’s body. Easy to understand why sponsors wanted him. “It’s too dangerous,” she murmured. “In fact, I wish he’d never get on another surfboard again.”

“That’s different.” Wally was looking at her with a strange expression.

She blushed. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

He laughed heartily at that. “Don’t think that’ll happen, him not ever surfing again, but I figure he’ll move on to the next thing soon enough. He doesn’t have the right drive. Rick doesn’t live for that next big wave.”

“Is that so terrible?”

“Not to me. Not to you.” His faint smile nearly hidden by his bushy beard, he added, “It is to the kids around here, to big names who want him to wear their logo. Lots of pressure.”

It apparently mattered to a lot of women, too, she’d noticed. At the beach, at restaurants. Not that she blamed them. “Rick doesn’t strike me as someone who caves in to demands,” she said more indignantly than she’d intended, and glanced sheepishly toward the back. She had a lot of nerve discussing Rick, but she couldn’t resist one more question. “Why tell me all this?”

“Because you’re somebody who matters to him.” Wally’s amused gaze swept her startled face, as he ran his hands over his ribs, much like a man who had just finished a satisfying meal. “And vice versa, seems to me. Guess it’s time for me to get back to work.” He turned away with a smile.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Then you have a nice trip.” He said with an over-the-head wave and no backward glance.

She stared after him, then at the poster, her heart doing double time. He was wrong. Rick clearly hadn’t shared their unspoken deal, for which she was grateful.

“Ready?” Rick’s nearness made her start. He glanced at her empty hands. “You didn’t find anything?”

She shrugged helplessly, not trusting her voice. Too much was swirling around in her head. From what she’d seen and from what Rick had told her himself, he and Wally were close. So what did the man know that she didn’t? He’d claimed she mattered to Rick. She had no reason not to believe him. Oh, how much she hoped it were true. Rick made her feel special and she knew he cared, but enough to make it work for them once she left for New York?

He smiled, pulled her into his arms. “You’ll have to shop later. We need to go home.”

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

He nuzzled her neck. “So I can talk you into staying an extra week.” He kissed her surprised mouth, murmuring against it, “And to get my way…I’m not gonna play fair.”