Only Skin Deep (7 page)

A
pink sun climbed behind a bank of clouds to spill dawn upon a glorious new day. Filtered through lace curtains, the morning light tattooed dancing patterns on Lauren's shoulder and that of the man sleeping so soundly next to her. She stretched her hand out to the sunbeam, marveling that it hadn't turned her invisible again.

Or made Travis disappear.

Lauren was certain that heaven would have difficulty competing with the feeling of waking in his strong arms, sharing his body warmth and savoring the sweet soreness of being so thoroughly loved. While he slept, she studied him at length. Time had honed the boyish good looks she had loved so well and turned Travis into a man slightly too rugged for the cover of slick fash
ion magazines. The stubble along his jawline lent roughness to the peaceful expression that he wore while sleeping. Lauren couldn't resist finger-combing his short blond hair. Natural highlights caught the sunshine and warmed each strand to the touch.

Oh, what she would give to start out each day appreciating this man's finer attributes! Those on the inside as well as the outside. He had his quirks. That much was true. Who didn't? Scarred by the past, Travis was clearly afraid to let his guard down. But Lauren knew him as a good man. The fact that he was willing to rush in to a save a damsel in distress—whether she wanted to be rescued or not—was testimony to his own personal sense of integrity. And despite her assertion that she could take care of herself just fine, thank you very much, she secretly longed to renew her faith in long forgotten fantasies about knights on white horses.

Lauren understood that Travis didn't feel the same way about her that she did about him, but she couldn't believe that passion such as theirs could be born in the absence of emotion, either. Watching his chest rise and fall in steady rhythm, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have his children. She fantasized briefly about standing over a crib and gazing upon the sleeping angel such a union was sure to produce. Would the baby be as beautiful as his father? As inquisitive as her mother?

Something sweet and unbidden welled up in Lauren's heart, and moisture rose unexpectedly to her eyes.

Stop it!
she told herself fiercely.

Such dreams could only lead to heartbreak and ruin the perfection of the moment. She refused to let concerns about the future drain the joy out of the present. For the precious time being, the man of her dreams belonged to her.

At least until he woke up.

Impulse drew her hand over his heart. Cupping it like she would to protect a flame from the wind, Lauren said a prayer over its steady rhythm.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

The sound of that voice, gravelly with the first utterance of the day, startled Lauren so that she drew her hand back as if caught in the act of stealing. She savored the sound of that tender endearment on his lips. However, without benefit of a comb or makeup or toothbrush, it was hard for her to believe its reliability.

“Good morning,” she repeated.

Eyes the color of lifting fog reassured her. And beheld her gently. She was relieved to see that Travis gave no sign of bolting from bed once awareness of his surroundings settled over him. Instead he drew her close and asked for a kiss.

Lauren clamped her mouth shut. “Sorry—morning breath,” she mumbled apologetically.

A spark of irritation flashed over Travis's face.

“Kiss me,” he demanded over the rumbling of his empty stomach.

Lauren succumbed, doing as she was told and giving herself over to a man who, by the feel of things, had something other than breakfast on his mind. Relatively
inexperienced in such matters, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that he awoke in a state of arousal. A firm squeeze was all the invitation Travis needed to start the day out right. Dragging her on top of him, he gave her permission to forget all about her morning breath.

Lauren's laughter was deep and full as she sat up and reached for the only remaining cellophane packet left on her nightstand.

“You'll have to replenish your supply,” Lauren chastised, struggling to open a package designed to deter less determined lovers. “And I'll have to figure out how to work these things myself.”

Travis grinned as he watched her take a corner between her teeth and rip it open. Positioning himself to make the rest of the task as easy as possible, he clasped his hands behind his head and, with a satisfied sigh, offered to help in any way he could.

“I'd rather do it myself,” Lauren said assuming the masterful tone of a dominatrix in training.

Putting a little elastic covering over such an impressive erection proved a lot harder than Travis had made it look last night. When the condom shot out of Lauren's hands like a rubber band that some rowdy student might try launching when her back was turned to the class, she burst into a fit of giggles that would have made a less secure man shrivel up. Travis's patience was rivaled only by the tenacity of his libido.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and retrieved the condom from where it landed next to his pillow.

“I thought teachers were supposed to do it with class.”

“Just with an eye to perfection. And if that means having to stay after class to bring up your grade, you just might find yourself assigned to permanent detention, mister.”

Travis didn't complain about such harsh punishment. In fact, he seemed determined to teach her a thing or two. An amazing lover, he was both gentle and demanding in turn. He caressed, kneaded, suckled and rubbed her all the right ways and in all the right places. Ignoring her pleas that she couldn't possibly come again, he made sure she climaxed several times before allowing himself the same satisfaction.

The intensity of his expression as his body strained for the paroxysm of release was so stirring that Lauren deliberately imprinted the sight in her mind. Though she longed for a lifetime of such sublime moments, she was afraid it would be an image that would have to last her forever. Indeed, Travis had issued warnings in place of promises regarding the future.

Spent so early in the day, they lay intertwined in each other's arms, soaking up the morning sun and enjoying each other's company. Such mind-boggling sex could become addictive, Lauren thought as she finally dragged herself out of bed to face the day a new woman.

Having never showered with a man before, she was reluctant to do so now. Considering the time they had just spent together, it seemed silly to defer to modesty. Besides, how could she argue with Travis's assurance that “a little clean fun never hurt anyone”?

Beneath a stream of warm water, Lauren savored
the tender ministries paid to her body after such intense lovemaking. Travis lathered her up from chin to toe with soap and gently ran a clean washcloth over all her curves, making sure no trace remained on any part of her body before turning his attention to her hair. She purred with pleasure as he rubbed shampoo into her hair and massaged her scalp with expert fingers. Tipping her head back, she let the water rinse away her troubles. The next thing she knew, Travis had her pinned against the shower wall and was kissing her all over.

Clinging to his slick body, Lauren discovered he was rock-hard again. And had to apologize for being too sore to indulge him so soon after their sex marathon.

“No problem,” he assured her, kneeling down before her and nudging her legs apart.

A mouthful of water and a hot surge of pleasure prevented Lauren from protesting. Pressing her spine against the wall, she braced herself against the onslaught of ecstasy. The tip of his tongue settled on a highly sensitive spot, and she tried to keep from drowning in the sensations flowing through her. If she could have managed to form the words, she might have begged him to stop.

To never stop…

Just when Lauren thought she couldn't stand another second of such exquisite torture, her body folded around itself from the inside out and burst into spasmodic contractions that left her too weak to stand up. The running water did little to muffle the sounds of whimpering that echoed through the cabin. Travis looked
thoroughly pleased by the fact that he had to hold her up to keep her from slipping down the drain.

 

Once Lauren's bones were restored to their proper state, she took it upon herself to fix a hearty breakfast for the man who had so thoroughly satisfied her. A good cook, she liked to keep a full pantry. Wearing nothing but blue jeans, Travis sat at her cozy kitchen table drinking coffee and looking as though he belonged there. As the smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through the kitchen, Lauren was filled with a sense of contentment unlike any she had ever known before.

Ravenous, Travis piled his plate high with the food she set on the table in front of him. A large pat of butter melted down the sides of a stack of steaming hot-cakes. Lauren didn't skimp on the warm syrup pooling around the edifice like a moat, either. He'd devoured half a dozen pieces of bacon before the pancakes even reached the table. If his sighs of satisfaction were any indication, the old adage that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach was right on target.

“Very nice,” Travis said.

There was a hint of surprise in the statement as if he were setting a new precedent in sticking around for breakfast after a night of incredibly hot sex. Hoping he might linger longer, Lauren poured him another cup of coffee. She tucked into her memory banks that he liked it strong and black. He smiled over the rim of his cup.

Her little kitchen seemed even cozier with him in it. The hum of the refrigerator in the background went un
noticed. Still damp from the shower they had shared, Travis's hair was a shade darker when wet. Lauren noticed that a farmer's tan bisected muscles defined by hard work and that his arms bore the scars of his labor. In all her fantasies about this man, no one had included such a mundane yet poignant scene as what they shared over the smell of chicory and bacon.

“I don't suppose you could take the rest of the day off to spend with me,” she asked in a small, hopeful voice.

The fork poised halfway to Travis's sensual mouth stopped. Watching him fumble for words—for any excuse to make a quick getaway—made Lauren painfully aware of her mistake. She shouldn't have pressed for anything that smacked of a continued relationship—and certainly for nothing that would hint of their romance in public. A wave of indignation swept over her.

Travis swallowed hard as if the last bite of his food was stuck in his throat.

“I've got an awful lot to do today,” he said at last.

Lauren shrugged her shoulders with an indifference she did not feel. It hadn't been her intention to push him away. She hadn't thought he would be so frightened by the prospect of spending time with her outside the bedroom. She held up a hand to stop him in the middle of listing off the day's obligations.

“You don't owe me any explanations.”

He really didn't. It wasn't like they had any kind of understanding beyond their undeniable physical attraction for one another. She knew the score.

Why then, Lauren wondered, did she have such an irresistible urge to pour the last of the syrup over his head?

Seeming suddenly as awkward as a handful of thumbs, Travis let his fork clatter against his plate. He pushed his empty plate away and put his hands against the edge of the table.

“Here, let me help you clear the table before I go,” he offered.

“No thanks.”

Lauren began gathering up the rest of the dirty dishes. She'd be damned if she let him see how badly she'd been hurt by his reaction to such a harmless request. It wasn't as if she'd proposed to him or anything nearly so horrifying.

“When I don't have so much going on, I'll take the day off and we can go do something fun,” Travis offered lamely.

Lauren remained aloof. Had the offer not been born out of guilt and a desire to pacify her, she might have been moved to give him more than a tight little smile and a noncommittal, “Maybe.”

Travis ground a heel into the braided rug beneath his feet as if he were settling himself into the starting blocks of a long-distance race.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

Lauren took perverse pleasure in the fact that Travis looked so very put out with her single word responses to the questions he posed.

“Look,” he said with an air of exasperation. “I nev
er made you any promises. If you'll recall, I was the one who thought this might be a bad idea in the first place. Just because we spent the night together doesn't automatically equate to a long-term commitment.”

The man's arrogance was as infuriating as his morning-after breakups were legendary. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much it hurt to be tossed aside in such a cavalier manner, Lauren summoned a soft, calm tone that only those who knew her very well might recognize as a sign of mounting fury.

“It certainly doesn't,” she replied. “And since you're being so brutally honest, I'd like to take the opportunity to set the record straight myself.”

Ignoring the defensive posture her warning evoked from him, Lauren continued evenly. “Last night was wonderful. I'll cherish the memory forever. But I hope you're not expecting some kind of formal thank-you from me. Just because you slept with me once doesn't equate to an open invitation to spend the night whenever you feel like it, either.”

She was reminded of a fish studying a bare hook as Travis's lower jaw swung open. Not inclined to bait that hook for him, she stood her ground with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances.

“You've made it perfectly clear that you aren't looking for a commitment. I've been just as up front about the fact that I am. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings. I'm a big girl, and I knew what I was getting into. One night certainly doesn't a lifetime make, so why don't we just part as friends and leave it at that?”