SeductiveIntent (8 page)

So why was she hesitating to use it? That was dangerous. She
said, “I’m from a lot of different places and no place, I guess.”

“And what do you do? For a living, I mean?”

“That’s a funny question for you to ask,” she teased.

“What? I have a job. I work for my family’s company.”

“So why aren’t you there now since your boss is on her
honeymoon? Shouldn’t you be watching the store?”

“Well, I was planning to, but I met this gorgeous girl at my
sister’s wedding and I couldn’t resist trying to get to know her better. She’s
a tough nut to crack, though.”

“Are you calling me a nut?”

He smiled and pulled her closer as they walked. “Okay,
forget about biographical facts. How about just what do you like? To read? To
eat? To watch? Anything.”

She should’ve said she liked to read poetry or philosophy.
That would make him think they had similar interests and might lead to
something interesting. Instead, she answered honestly, “I don’t get much time
to read. I like to, though. I like romances.”

“No kidding? And you admit to it?”

She punched him in the arm. “Watch it!”

“I’m just teasing. Almost every woman I know, except maybe
my sister Virginia, likes to read romance. I think it’s cute.”

“You’re not helping yourself out here.”

“Okay, the truth is I think it’s no different than sports or
something for most guys. It’s a stress reliever.”

A little more indulgent than Arthur. Whenever she had one of
her bodice-rippers out, as Arthur liked to call them, he warned her that she
should never be seen reading one by anybody else. Spoiled the image, he said.
As if somebody like her couldn’t be seen as longing for romance since she was
the “it” girl who presumably had all the real life romance she could handle.
But it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t a substitute for anything. It was about
happy endings. Or maybe being really wanted. Whatever.

Maybe she was just a low IQ pervert.

Or, as Arthur implied, a sucker.

By now they had passed a number of hotels that had
restaurants on the terrace, but that wasn’t where they were heading apparently.
Only when they came to a chicken shack nestled on the beach next to a closed
scuba diving equipment counter and a boogie board rental place did Brendan
stop.

“Freddie’s Chicken Heaven?” Sophia read the sign with
amazement. “We’re dining here?”

“Best chicken fingers you’ve ever tasted in your life. I
promise.”

Two paper plates later, she agreed, ignoring the grease left
on the plate of course. They sat on the sand as they ate, sipping the wine that
Freddie probably didn’t have a liquor license for since he handed it to them in
a paper bag for a hefty price. Not quite like the vintage she knew the Becketts
had in their Bransport wine cellar, but it was a nice white anyway. They sipped
from paper cups and when they were done, a trash can was conveniently near.

“See? No dishes,” Brendan said, wiping his hands on his
shorts. He sat back down next to her, seeming in no hurry to move on. It was
twilight now, and the waves were a study in dark blues and purples.

“This is beautiful,” she offered, knowing it wasn’t quite
eloquent enough, but it was heartfelt nonetheless.

“I love this place. It’s so mellow. It lets you think, you
know?”

Maybe the wine was getting to her, but right now, with his
golden hair falling on his forehead, his long, strong legs stretched out in
front of him, Brendan Beckett struck her as about the most beautiful man in the
world. Of course, she had thought that well before this, so probably it wasn’t
the wine. It was just the wine that was helping push her to do something about
it.

Arthur had taught Sophia to hold her liquor, cluing her in
early to the fact that loose lips sink ships. But Sophia didn’t want to think
about Arthur’s life lessons now. She wanted to be loose, free with this man.
She made a deal with herself.

One night. Just this one night to be herself, to feel what
she wanted to feel, and then she would get down to the task at hand.

She leaned over and kissed him softly. Holding her chin in
his fingers, he tilted her face a little and took a little more. She felt
deliciously titillated. He pulled away. “Let’s go back to the house.”

She nodded, holding his gaze.

They said little on the walk back, as it got darker and
darker and the sounds of other walkers on the beach drifted away.

The house was lit up when they got back.

“A timer.” He answered her unasked question as he unlocked
the door and gestured for her to precede him. “We’re all alone here.”

Once they were inside, she almost wished all the lights were
off. It might have made it easier. Even the mellow glow of the one light in the
front room illuminated his expression. Full from the dinner, he was hungry for
something else his face said. Standing in front of the door wall, he opened it
a little to let the sound of the ocean in.

“I’m not,” she said haltingly, “as experienced as you might
expect.”

One corner of his mouth tilted up. “I’m not expecting
anything, Sophia. We’ll go as slow as you want. Remember?”

“That’s the problem.” Her voice sounded breathy, as it often
did in this kind of situation. Only she wasn’t putting it on. It wasn’t an act.
“I don’t want to go slow.”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He took her hand.
“That’s good too. Let’s go upstairs.”

She had been so preoccupied, she hadn’t even checked his
room out yet, which was probably the place he would hide something if he were
hiding it here.

She didn’t care right now as he led her into it. The room
was bigger than the one he’d given her and had a balcony with a door wall he
opened.

“Shouldn’t you lock the one downstairs?” she asked,
surprising herself.

“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t turn on the light and the
faint moonlight streamed in, enough for them to see what they were doing. He
came back to her and reached behind her head to unsnap the huge clip keeping
her hair up. The mass of it fell in damp curls all around her as he sifted his
fingers through the strands, causing her scalp to tingle. Then he cupped her
face with both hands. Tall as she was, even in her bare feet, he only had to
lean down a little to kiss her. And when he did, it was still so soft, so
restrained that she wondered where the jaded playboy really was.

She’d kissed guys, lots of guys, before. Not as sweet and
sexy as this, but still. She’d let them kiss her breasts before, or as she
liked to call it, paw her, before. A lot. What she hadn’t done, ever done, was
feel what he was pressing against her hip right now, really feel it. Inside
her. And she wanted to now. She wanted to feel what she had witnessed, for
herself. With him.

He reached up to the tie on her halter top, playing with it
as he kissed her, running his finger along her neck underneath the tie, and
along her shoulder bones, before he took one end of the tie and started to pull
slowly. “Is this okay?” he whispered and she nodded. The top fell to her waist.

“Take your shirt off,” she urged and he grinned, complying
quickly, flinging the tee to the floor.

“Happy to.” He pushed her back a little until she felt the
bed behind her knees. He stopped. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Good.” Pushing her down gently until she was lying back on
the big bed, he followed her down, his legs on either side of hers, climbing
over her. The cover was some kind of cottony bedspread that felt smooth and
cool against her bare back as she scooted back against the pillows. He kept his
eyes carefully trained on her face, not her chest, and somehow that excited
her. Kissing her again, his palms flat on the bed beside her face, he brought
his hard, muscular chest down by degrees until it was pressed flush against her
breasts. Sucking in her breath, she moaned against his lips at the feel of it,
so nice, so exciting. His cock was rubbing against the vee of her legs, covered
by the dress still and underneath it her panties. She opened her legs wider to
let him farther in and felt a stab of desire.

He lifted his head from the kiss, chuckling. “It’s going to
be impossible for me to try to bowl you over with my finesse if you go doing
stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

He leaned up a little to slip one hand underneath her skirt,
coolly and firmly travelling along her thigh until he reached the cotton
barrier of her underwear. “Inviting me in between these beautiful legs,” he
whispered.

She held her breath.

“Is that what you’re doing, Sophia?” He kissed her neck.
“Inviting me between your legs?”

“Yes,” she whimpered and it didn’t even sound like her own
voice to her.

With her permission, Brendan felt underneath the crotch of
her panties for her slit, wet already of course, which caused him to hum
approvingly, dipping his middle finger in and then rubbing her wetness along
her clit.

“Oh, God.” Talk about loose lips. She had no idea what she
might say right about now. She was lucky he didn’t ask her if she was leading
him on to try to steal something from him. She just might answer him.

He continued to kiss her neck, and then her collarbone, the
tip of her shoulder, as his fingers rubbed below and then abruptly thrust
inside.

She gasped at the slight pain and he seemed to startle,
pulling back as if he was going to ask her something. But she tugged his head
down to kiss her and the moment passed.

He worked two fingers in carefully and, leaning over her,
his lips reached her breasts. He kissed the side of one, and his cock jumped
against her hip, his fingers below getting a little rougher, plunging a little
deeper, but it all felt so wonderfully right.

His mouth traveled further and closed over her nipple as she
took a deep breath at the sensation, so right, when other men’s mouths had just
felt hurtful or greedy. He tongued her, opening his mouth wider to take in one
globe, or as much as he could, sucking.

She cried out at that and he pulled back quickly. His hands
came away from her below and he said, low, “Okay?”

“Okay what?” She really was confused.

“Okay with this?” His voice sounded strained.

She was used to egging men on. Frustrating them and she
heard something in his voice. She supposed it was excitement, frustration, but
it was so restrained. And hell, she wasn’t used to hearing it when she was
frustrated herself.

“Yes,” she said readily. “Whatever you want to do.”

He laughed, still not moving any further, except to rub his
now moist fingers against her nipple. “No question about what I want to do,” he
muttered as he caressed her, abruptly dropping all attempts at subtlety. “I
want to fuck you. Right now. Are you okay with that?”

What did he need? A written agreement? “Yes, yes,” she said
testily, annoyed that contrary to that bringing him to her, he abruptly climbed
to the side of the bed and got up. “Where are you going?”

He shoved his shorts off, allowing that incredible, hard
cock to spring out, for which she almost forgave him his sudden distance. Then
he rummaged in a drawer by the side of the bed, not bothering to explain.

“Oh, yeah,” she said as he extracted a condom, climbing on
top of her again, pulling her dress and underwear down and off in the process.

Naked limbs to naked limbs, she sighed. “Oh, this is so
nice.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down for a kiss, which
he indulged her in for a moment before pulling back.

“Wait, let me get this on and then we can kiss all you
want.”

She should have watched him carefully, every experience a
lesson, for how to put the condom on, but she didn’t, some weird kind of
shyness overtaking her. He was too quick about it anyway. Then he was on top of
her again, kissing her wildly, shoving her legs open with his own, his hands on
the outside of her thighs, pulling her legs around him, sinking deeper into the
cradle of her legs.

It all felt so wonderful that she was startled by the
pressure when he started to push in. She knew what it was of course. She wanted
it. But she pulled her head away from the kiss, taking a deep breath to try to
adjust to the sensation. His cock was much bigger than his fingers had been and
it took a moment.

He groaned, continuing to push in, and almost involuntarily,
she put her palms to her shoulders as if she could hold him back. “Stop,” she
whispered swiftly, despite her best efforts.

He did. Immediately. But she still felt so very full. It
didn’t hurt exactly. It just felt…different enough to take her out of the
moment.

“Just wait a minute.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Fuck, she was killing him. She was so fucking tight, her
delicious, incredible tits against his chest, her tight, wet pussy sucking him
in. Fuck. Stop what? He was shaking with the need to thrust all the way into
her. He groaned and realized she was trying to look down to where they were
joined.

“What?” he begged.

“You’re, oh my God, you’re only in a little bit.”

Her voice didn’t sound all breathy and sexy and wild for
him, as it had a minute ago. It sounded…like nothing he’d ever heard in bed
with a woman before. It sounded…worried.

“What is it? Am I hurting you?”

“A little.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Relax. You’re very
tight, honey.” He ran his lips along her cheek, her ear, the side of her neck
and felt himself slide a little farther in. Although he was very much in danger
of losing his self-control, she needed more foreplay apparently and those
gorgeous tits were right there, begging for it. He gently brought his hand to
her breast, flicking the hard rose-colored nipple with his thumb, and then bent
his head to it, licking softly.

“Oh, oh, Brendan…”

He was keeping his damn cock perfectly still, going no
farther in, as he lapped at her, her whispery sighs more like it. And though
she was still tight, he felt her getting wetter and wetter until it would take
a saint not to slide farther into her. But he switched to her other nipple—God,
she really had incredible tits—and worked her further until he felt it safe to
raise his head and ask, “Now, Sophia? Are you ready for me now? Can you take
me?”