Rocky Mountain Hook Up (To Love Again Book 1) (4 page)

Was it possible that Chet had never touched her like this? Slow, gentle, completely in the moment. At the thought of Chet, her body started to stiffen and the past threatened to overtake the present. Never mind, she told herself. This was not Chet, and Tray could only hurt her if she let him. If she didn’t feel anything for him, there would be no chance of being hurt. She would use him, or they would use each other, but nothing could touch her in only one night. And one night was all they would have.

The song ended and she started off the floor, but Tray pulled her back into a waltz as the next song pounded through the club. Procol Harem, “A Lighter Shade of Pale”. She leaned her head into Tray’s shoulder as he pressed her closer, the warmth of his hand radiating through the small of her back. Humming along, she snuggled closer into his chest, the rise of his pecs clear through his tight t-shirt. From deep within her, she felt a liquid heat start to rise and decided to give in and stop trying to focus on the music.

He was tall and hunky and was exactly the kind of guy Isabel knew she should stay away from. That had been her downfall with Chet. He’d swept her off her feet with his physical presence. She’d spent years trying to recapture the chemistry she’d felt in the early days with Chet but it had always led to heartbreak. Tray pulled her closer, moving his hand down her back until his palm cupped the curve of her buttocks.

Isabel’s heart jumped as he pressed her hips into his. Fighting to keep her breathing calm, she could feel her breasts rising, pushing against him. Her head was nestled into his shoulder, her nostrils filled with a heady blend of deodorant and musk. She breathed him in as he started to move, right to left, turning ever so slightly but keeping her tight against him. Her nipples puckered into little balls against his chest.

Her body raced with excitement. After three years, this was torture. She pulled away, creating some space between them, fearing she might orgasm right on the dance floor. Tray moved his hand away from her shoulder, along to her side. His long fingers splayed across her back, the thumb reaching in for her breast, then firmly advancing to brush her nipple. Her breath caught in her throat and she jumped back as if shot. Tremors coursed through her body as she pushed herself away from him – not knowing whether to be angry, offended, or what.

The crowd surged around them, oblivious to them. No one had seen. The other dancers were focused on their own partners.

Tray smiled down at her, tentative, reached out his hand. Taking it, Isabel allowed herself to be led off the dance floor. This club was living up to its reputation. Another few minutes and they’d have been making love on the floor. She was still trembling when they reached the table. She slid behind the table and Tray moved in beside her, staying close.

Surveying the dance floor, she spotted Jenny, entwined around the dark Greek God she had noticed earlier. Jenny caught her eye over his shoulder and shot her a wicked smile and a quick wink.

Tray continued to run his hands through the hair at the back of her neck while she sipped her drink. Her legs had almost stopped trembling. Her breathing was returning to normal. Three years without sex was a long time but she still would not have believed she could be this bold.

“Is that your friend?”Tray asked, motioning towards Jenny. Isabel nodded. “She looks comfortable here,” he said.

“She’s not a regular, but she’s been here before.” Isabel turned to look at him. He had the most beautiful eyes, she thought. “I’m the baby here.”

Tray raised his eyebrows, and Isabel, realizing what she’d said, broke into a nervous giggle. “I thought I was the baby here,” he drawled.

Isabel laughed again. Maybe Tray had more going for him than that dazzling smile. And maybe they had more in common than boiling blood and biological urges.

Tray stopped laughing and leaned in toward her, closing the small bit of space that remained between them. It had been a long time, but she still understood the signals. She still knew when a man wanted to kiss her. She reached around his neck, her fingers tangled in his curls.

“Just kiss me, Tray,” she rasped. Oh no, she groaned inwardly, I’ve lost it now.

Then he was all over her. His mouth, hot and hungry, pressed into her lips. A soft groan escaped him as she tightened her grip on his thigh and he pushed his tongue over her teeth, seeking her tongue. Isabel closed her eyes to a thousand tiny stars and relaxed into him while he probed deeper into her mouth. A soft moan escaped her lips. His hands moved to her cheeks and he stilled her head, trying to dive further into her. A warm rush glowed through her, from her belly to her neck. Her breasts tingled and she tilted her head to give him more entry.

Tray pressed up against her arm and there was no mistaking the hardness there. He was just as excited as she was. Just the brush against her arm quickened her already racing pulse.

She trailed her finger over his mouth and then, without thinking, popped her finger into her mouth. She hadn’t meant for the move to be seductive, but there was no mistaking the heat that flared in Tray’s eyes.

Perhaps it was time to live a little - do something unexpected, out of character. Get out of her comfort zone. That’s what she told her clients.

Deciding to take her own advice, she pursed her lips around the finger still in her mouth and held Tray’s gaze. His eyes widened.

“Mmmm,” she moaned as she pulled her finger in to the knuckle and slowly out again. Tray’s chest heaved and he shifted uncomfortably. She tongued the tip of her finger, gliding around in circles, then flicking softly over the top. Widening her eyes, she pursed her lips again and plunged her finger quickly into her mouth, squealing as his mouth fell open.

Isabel could not believe the show she was putting on – but it felt good – she felt powerful. It was heaven to have a man look at her with such open desire again, and she wanted him. He was very aroused, and each time he shifted against her, the folds below his belt grew higher. How big could he be, Isabel wondered. Oh, please, let him be enormous, she thought. After three years of waiting, she deserved something extra special in return.

She had to touch it. She just wanted to feel through his pants, see how big he was, feel how hard he was. Maintaining a slow in and out with her finger and her mouth, she reached her other hand into his lap.

Steady there, girl. You don’t have to lunge at the poor boy. Tray was lifting toward her hand, straining for her touch, and his body trembled as she laid her palm flat against his stomach. His breath seemed to catch in anticipation, and as she moved down past his belt, he rocked his pelvis forward, pushing his manhood against her hand. He groaned as she grasped the width of him through the denim. A quick exploratory told her she was headed into uncharted territory…outside of her fantasies, that is.

Tray caught her hand, stopping her short. “Not here, Isabel,” he rasped, breathing heavily. “I want you so bad my teeth are horny, but this isn’t the place. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he growled, eyes glazed over with passion. Isabel grabbed her purse and let Tray lead her through the dance floor filled with dancing, rubbing, bouncing bodies.

As they hurried out the door, the bouncer swept a look up Tray and down Isabel. “Get what you came for?” he asked.

Isabel just smiled. Oh, yeah.

CHAPTER FIVE

Isabel turned the key in her front lock with Tray waiting, not so quietly, behind her. Nuzzling into her neck, circling her waist with his strong hands, inching his fingers slowly up her ribcage. Swinging the door open, she stepped in and away from him.

She hadn’t been planning to bring him home of all places. She hadn’t planned that far at all. Tonight was to be about making an appearance, getting comfortable in the milieu. She hadn’t expected to be bringing anyone home. Hoped and fantasized maybe, but she had tried to keep her expectations low. Now she had thrown all caution to the wind, let herself get caught up in the moment, and she wondered if she had totally lost her mind.

But here he was, her golden boy, about to cross her threshold into her life, into her bed.

No, no, Isabel corrected herself harshly. Into her bed. That was it. Yes, he was charming and delicious to look at, but you couldn’t build a relationship on that. She should know. She’d tried. With Chet, everything had been based on feeling. There was such a strong attraction from the start that she had just been swept away. They had seemed like two peas from the same pod. They loved the same things, had seemed to have the same values. Of course, they had their disagreements but things had always worked out in the end. Except for the last end.

Isabel had determined that next time she would not allow her heart or her wishful thinking to throw her into a romantic relationship. Next time, if there was one, Isabel would use her head and her considerable analytical skills to assess her potential partner. That was the only way, she realized. Make a list and then stick to it.

Enough romantic notions, she chided herself. He’s too young and she was happy with her life just the way it was.

Tray’s arm slid back around her waist as she fumbled for the light. One thing about a younger man, she wasn’t nervous about her place being a mess. Jenny called her a confirmed bachelorette every time she visited. Tray probably lived in a college dorm somewhere so her place would seem like a palace – even with the newspapers strewn over the carpet and the half-eaten bowl of cereal on the counter that she could spy out of the corner of her eye.

So she liked him. So what? That was maybe a good thing when you were about to get naked with someone. She laughed, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Tray.

“Have anything to drink, Isabel?” Tray slumped himself onto the couch and threw his left leg over the coffee table, looking completely at home as only the self-assured and very young can do.

“A beer?” she called over her shoulder, heading for the fridge, nudging newspapers out of her way with her toe as she crossed the area carpet Jenny had brought home from her Egypt trip a couple of years ago.

Isabel dug frosted glasses from the freezer and slowly poured the beer to keep the head down. What was she supposed to do now? There was a living, breathing man sitting on her couch. There hadn’t been a man in her townhouse for romantic reasons for a long, long time. But she could handle this. She was halfway there already. He was here, she was here…the hard part was done.

Isabel set the glasses on the coffee table, and moved to the wall to dim the lights. She flicked on the gas fireplace, making the scene complete.

Tray patted the couch beside him and she settled into the nook under his arm. He had such great arms. She stroked his forearm, lying easily across her chest. Sinewy muscles were well defined under the last of his summer tan. He definately worked out.

She knew things like this were supposed to be easy, casual. But the truth was, Isabel had never had casual sex in her life. What was she thinking? She had no frame of reference on how to proceed.

“Who are the girls in the pictures on the fireplace?” Tray asked breaking into Isabel’s thoughts.

She looked up at the most recent photos of her girls, smiling, relaxed, filled with life. “My daughters. That’s Karin on the left, Shelley on the right. They’re away at college, second year.”

“They’re twins?” asked Tray, clearly puzzled. “They don’t look like twins.”

“No, no. They were born the same year though - Karin in January and Shelley in December - so they were always in the same grade. It was good for them, especially …” Isabel trailed off, she didn’t want to talk about the divorce. “When they graduated, they spent a year in France working as au pairs and now they’re studying education.”

“They both want to teach?” Tray asked, playing lightly with her hair, stroking it behind her ear in a way that tickled slightly and reminded her how aroused she’d been for the last couple of hours.

“Imagine – just like their mother.” Oops. Now why had she said that? She didn’t want to reveal her whole life.

“You don’t strike me as a teacher, Isabel.” Tray’s eyes sparkled with what Isabel guessed was skepticism.

She sighed inwardly. Should she tell him? What would he think? So many people misunderstood what she did. It often elicited a strong guffaw or silent snicker, as if it were something dirty. She was a sex therapist, for goodness sake. A therapist who helped people with that area of their life. She decided to leap in. What difference could it make?

“I do teach, in a way. But not in a classroom. I’m a therapist actually, a sex therapist.”

CHAPTER SIX

Tray’s head spun. Christopher Columbus, he had hit the jackpot. Here was a woman who taught sex to couples for a living. Who helped people with their sexual dysfunctions. If she couldn’t help him, then maybe no one could. He thought about coming clean with her right now, but it would seem a little opportunistic. Of course, it
was
opportunistic, but when Tray had approached her in the bar he’d had no idea she was a sex therapist.

“Whew,” Tray emitted a low whistle, while running his hand slowly up the back of her lovely neck, lifting her red hair away off her shoulders. “I’ll bet you know a thing or two.”

A look of annoyance creased Isabel’s features. “It’s not like that…”

Tray jumped in. “I know, Isabel. I’m teasing. Just trying to get a rise out of you. I’m a psychology student.” She relaxed into his arm again. “I understand the field and I think I understand what you do.”