Waking Up to You: Overexposed (10 page)

Groaning, he twined his hands in her hair. Candace knew she was tormenting him, but knowing from very recent experience that anticipation was wonderful, she didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, she reached up and traced her fingers over his cock, from the top down the long back, to the sacs beneath. She cupped them gently, hearing his gasp and feeling his hands tighten in her hair. The position was incredibly intimate. He was as physically vulnerable as a man could make himself, and she was conscious of the trust that must require. Obviously, given how men loved to be blown, the benefits had to outweigh the risk. And this time, she was finding herself truly looking forward to something she’d usually viewed as an item to check off a list during foreplay.

Not with him. Him she wanted to taste. Oliver she wanted to please.

She continued to breathe deeply, evenly, loving the musky scent of man that filled her nostrils. Wrapping her hand around as much of him as she could hold, she stroked him, up and down, squeezing lightly, knowing by the way his pulse pounded in his groin that his heart was racing.

Needing to smooth the glide, she lifted her hand and traced her fingers across the top of his cock, moistening them with the arousal seeping from the tip. Curious, she drew a finger to her mouth and licked the moisture from it.

“Jesus!”

She heard pure desperation in his voice. Casting a look up through her bangs and seeing Oliver’s hungry expression, she knew she’d pushed him to his limits, and finally licked her lips and moved in for a deeper taste. He was definitely too big for her to take him all the way, but she did her best, taking the bulbous tip into her mouth and sucking gently.

“Oh, God, yeah,” he groaned, pumping the tiniest bit, as if a slave to his body’s demands.

She didn’t mind. He tasted delicious—warm, a little salty, ever-so-smooth. The act was incredibly intimate, and she loved hearing his groans of pleasure as she sucked him as far as she could, laving him so he could glide more easily.

He didn’t allow it to go on too long, not nearly as long as he’d pleasured her. Within a few minutes, he’d gently pushed her away.

“I want in.”

The blunt demand made her shiver with excitement. He reached for her, drawing her to her feet, and she wasn’t quite sure where they were going. When he lifted one of her legs so she could rest her foot on the arm of the couch, she got the picture.

He paused to tear open the condom packet and slide it on—it was a wonder the thing fit. When he was sheathed, he drew her into his arms, covering her mouth and kissing her deeply. His erection was a powerful ridge between their bodies, and she arched toward it, needing him desperately.

“Please, Oliver,” she insisted.

He gave her what she wanted, tilting her toward him and nudging into her curls. She was slick with want, her body opening in welcome. He eased into her, bringing ecstasy with him. Candace began to breathe in shallow little gasps as he filled her, inch by delicious inch. He was so thick, hard and hot that she felt every bit of him as he possessed her.

As if he realized that her whole body was melting, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing herself to sink fully onto him. As he impaled her, she threw her head back and let out a low, guttural cry of pleasure.

He began to thrust slowly, sinking deep, then drawing away. The man’s strength surprised her. He seemed completely comfortable bearing her weight as they gave and took. She answered every stroke, clenching him deep inside, knowing by his shudders that he felt and enjoyed every squeeze.

Soon, the frenzy built. He drove faster; she cried louder. She clung to his shoulders, and he backed her against the wall. The leverage made things deeper, hotter, and he drove into her again and again, losing himself to the passion.

She was lost to it, too. Lost to everything but this moment, this man, this act, and giving all she had to bring them both to the pinnacle of delight. When she reached that peak, climaxing yet again, she held on tight and let him drive deep to attain his own.

* * *

W
AKING
UP
THE
next morning and seeing his bedside clock flashing, Oliver realized the power had come back on at some point during the night. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered if it had remained off. He and Candace had created plenty of heat on their own, both down in front of the fireplace, and again later in this bed.

This small bed.

He had never been more aware of its size until now, when he felt her curled up against him, one slim leg entwined with his, her arm draped across his waist, her head on his shoulder.

He liked small beds, he decided.

He liked them a lot.

And he especially liked waking up to find her in bed with him, twined around him like she needed to touch as much of him as she could while she slept.

The light sifting in through the window said the storm had passed and the day appeared sunny and bright. There were a million things he could work on, but he had the feeling he was going to want to skip them in favor of making love to this beautiful woman again.

He had her for one week and one week only. He had no idea why those had been her terms, or what the secret was that she hadn’t wanted to share. Last night, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t given a damn. Now though, he couldn’t deny he was curious. But not curious enough to push her and risk losing out on what time he had left with her.

It was going to be a week he would never forget. And one she would never forget. He’d make absolutely certain of that.

“Mmm...good morning,” she murmured.

He glanced down to see her looking up at him, yawning and blinking against the bright sunlight.

“Hi.”

She curled her arm tighter, tucking her leg a little more intimately, and cuddled close. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a man who’d run a marathon,” he admitted. “Something zapped all my strength last night.”

“I think that was me.” She might have been a cat for the satisfied purr in her tone.

“I told you the night we met that you should come with a warning label.”

“What would it say?”

“Caution: combustible female. Approach only when wearing protective gear.”

She giggled against his chest and traced a lazy hand down his stomach. “You wore protective gear last night.”

True, though he wished he hadn’t had to. The very idea of being buried inside her, skin to skin, was incredibly appealing. Unfortunately, he might never get that chance. Their relationship was very new, and short-term, and that kind of trust and intimacy usually didn’t happen right away.

“What are you thinking?”

He had to be honest, so he told her the truth.

She quivered delicately and he saw a warm flush suffuse her cheeks. “Mind reader.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m all for being responsible, but the truth is, I’m on the pill and I thought about throwing those condoms into the fireplace last night.”

“It was probably best for us to talk about it first. I’d never put you at risk—you know that, right? I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“After last night, didn’t I prove I trust you?”

Oh, she definitely had, lowering her guard and surrendering herself to him in every way a woman could. Of course, he’d done the same. It was the most intimate he had ever been with anyone, which made the idea of him only having her for another week all the more untenable.

No strings. No emotions. That was the deal. And really, it was for the best.

Somehow, though, it was getting harder to remember that.

“And for what it’s worth, I haven’t been around the block a whole lot myself. In fact, before last night, it had been over a year since I was with anyone.”

“Have men in Los Angeles gone blind, deaf and lost their sense of smell, taste and touch since I was away?”

She giggled, the sound cute and unusual for her. “Well, I don’t usually go around asking guys to sniff me, and when I tell them to bite me, it’s not a genuine invitation.”

He couldn’t resist sliding down and nibbling her neck.

“So you’re saying?” he asked as he moved lower to kiss her chest, delighting in those perky, pouty nipples that cried out for attention.

She groaned and wrapped her legs around him. “I’m saying I want you inside me. Right now. Unless that’s a problem for you.”

It wasn’t.

He immediately moved between her parted thighs and tested her readiness with his fully engorged cock. She was wet and warm, soft and yielding. So ready.

“Absolutely not a problem,” he muttered as he buried himself to the hilt.

The sensation was blissful, all sweet heat and moisture, and he closed his eyes, giving in to the pleasure. Then they began to rock together, bathed in the morning light, connected in every way possible.

And not for the first time, he began to wonder how on earth he was ever going to let her go.

9

O
VER
THE
NEXT
couple of days, Candace found herself falling into a routine. She would get up early, and spend the morning with Grandpa, cheering him on with his rehab. Then she would come back to the house, have lunch with Oliver, have sex with Oliver, have orgasms with Oliver, do a little drawing, then go back to have dinner with Grandpa. Often Oliver accompanied her for dinner, though they left the sex and the orgasms at home.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. Oh, she was still very worried about her grandfather, and was now busy dealing with her newest assignment. The studio had called, saying they loved her sketches and wanted her for the project. She knew as well as anyone that this could be the film that got her some major attention. Aside from that, she was also busy talking to appraisers and auctioneers about the wine collection. And surrounding all that business and activity, a happy glow of personal contentment swirled around her just about every minute of the day.

She and Oliver did more than just have the most amazing sex. They cooked together, walked together, laughed together. She’d gotten him to open up a little more about his savaged career, and even got him to admit that, with his change in lifestyle, he probably could afford to put out a shingle and take on only the clients he truly believed were innocent.

Only one thing could pierce her glow of contentment: thinking about what awaited her back in L.A.

“Hey, chickie, whatcha doing?” Tommy asked when she’d answered the phone late one afternoon.

She hadn’t told him about Oliver. The only person she’d even hinted to about her relationship with him was Madison, to whom she talked every other day or so. Her sister had been her other half since birth. They had the kind of bond few people ever experienced with a sibling. Madison knew how to keep a secret, so they usually told each other everything. But even Madison didn’t know the whole story. Candace had kept some things from her, the most intimate things. She’d protected the relationship, wanting to keep it private for as long as it lasted. But the fact that it couldn’t last much longer was crushing her.

“I’m shopping,” she admitted. “I’ve got to buy a new dress.”

“For?”

“There’s a big winery owner’s ball tomorrow night,” she said, still wondering if she’d made the right decision in saying she would attend with Oliver.

Their relationship so far had been mostly about sex. Drinking wine, talking about Grandpa and him teaching her what he’d learned so far about the wine business had taken up some time, too. But other than that one dinner/dessert they’d shared at Wilhelm’s, they’d never actually gone on a date. So last night, when her grandfather had told them he wanted the two of them to go to the event, since he had already RSVP’d for himself and Oliver, her first instinct was to refuse. Then she’d met Oliver’s eye from across the hospital room and had seen the gleam of interest there.

She couldn’t deny being curious. She’d gotten to know him as a working man. This formal, black-tie event might be her only chance to catch a glimpse of the man Oliver had been before his life imploded. Not that she didn’t adore the man who’d taught her things about her body she’d never even known, but she wanted to learn as much about him as she could, while she could. She wanted to discover all his facets and imprint them on her memory, to tide her over for the long and lonely years that stretched ahead.

It was getting harder to think about those years, harder to envision the life she’d chosen for herself. Even the sound of Tommy’s voice, which usually made her happy, twisted the knife in the wound. For a few days, she’d been able to pretend she was at the start of a relationship that could change her life.

Maybe it still would. Maybe she’d change from a normal, happy woman to a heartbroken, never-able-to-love-again sad case.

Love? What the hell are you thinking, girl?

“Sounds fancy.”

She was still too busy tripping over the word
love
in her mind to respond.

“Where is it?” he asked.

She finally shook her head, forcing away thoughts she wasn’t ready to deal with, and replied, “At a hotel in San Francisco.”

“Nice. I love that city.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Do you think anyone would notice if I walked in the parade? I could blend in with the crowd.”

“Maybe...if you covered yourself with gold body paint from head to toe and wore a rubber gorilla mask on your face.”

“Party pooper.”

She shrugged as she walked around the square in Sonoma, eyeing the windows of various boutiques. “Have you been behaving?”

“Define behaving.”

“Staying out of the news?”

“Babe, I’m always in the news. I can’t take a piss in a restaurant bathroom without some jackass trying to snap a picture he can sell to the tabs.”

“That really sucks, Tommy,” she said, hearing the note of sad resignation he couldn’t disguise.

“Yeah, poor, poor me,” he said, his dark mood lifting quickly, as always. “Remind me of that next time I get a contract for a ten-mill picture.”

“Will do.”

“Considering half of it will be yours, I’m sure you will!”

Right. His millions would be her millions. Somehow, that had meant something to her once upon a time. It just didn’t now.

“Hey, have you heard from the studio?”

One bit of bright news. “Yes. I got the job.”

“Congrats, girlfriend!”

“Thanks. They sent me the script and I’m starting on some prelims.”

“Excellent. We should celebrate.”

“We will. When I get back.”

“When’s that going to be again?”

She swallowed hard, knowing she had to say the words aloud—not just for his sake, but for hers.

“I’m coming home in a few days. Grandpa gets out of the rehab facility on Sunday. The last time I talked to Mad, she was booking a ticket to come out and spend some time with him. She should be here sometime this weekend.”

“So there’s nothing keeping you there?”

No. Nothing keeping her.

Nothing at all.

She wished she could talk to Tommy. Other than her sister, he was the one to whom she could always spill her darkest secrets and woes. And since her sister lived clear on the other side of the country, and they seldom saw each other, it was Tommy who she usually relied on.

But she couldn’t talk to him about this. Couldn’t admit anything about her amazing relationship with Oliver. It was too personal, too vulnerable, and she had to concede, too heartbreaking. Telling him would mean revealing her feelings—she could never keep those from him. If she revealed how she really felt, she would be putting Tom in a hell of a position.

Would he urge her to follow her heart, tell her he’d deal with the fallout?

Maybe.

Or maybe he’d panic and beg her not to bail on him.

Either way, she’d end up feeling like the worst friend in the world. Because she’d promised. Agreeing to marry him was not the kind of promise she could go back on, not when so much was riding on it for him. If she didn’t follow through, his career could be over, and so could their friendship. So no matter how deeply she feared she was falling for Oliver McKean, her old friend had to come before her new lover.

Even if hers was the only heart in their strange triangle that ended up getting broken.

* * *

H
EARING
A
CAR
pull up that evening, Oliver walked to the front room of Buddy’s house and gazed out the window. Candace had just returned from town, and as she got out, she pulled a plastic-wrapped bundle on a hanger with her. Her shopping trip had apparently been a success.

He still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to escort her to the ball. The whole hobnob-with-the-wealthy-set had never been a big part of his life, though he’d attended a few events when he was with the D.A.’s office. But he sure hadn’t hauled his tux with him when he’d moved; the thing was moldering in a storage unit along with most of his suits and a mountain of law books. He’d had to stop by a rental place to order one, which was always a pain in the ass. In fact, the whole thing was a bad idea all around.

But when Buddy had suggested it, he simply hadn’t been able to resist. He wanted to take Candace out, to have her on his arm, at least once. Wanted to show her a great time that didn’t include them being in bed.

Well, it would probably end up with them in bed. In fact, considering he’d booked a room at the hotel, he was counting on it ending up there. Still, the point remained. He didn’t want her just for the phenomenal sex. He liked being with her, and wanted her to know it.

Why, he had no idea.

Because you don’t want her to leave, jackass.

Oh. Yeah. That.

Oliver had set up a special evening for them and looked forward to seeing her reaction when she walked in the door. Candace had appeared happy since the moment they’d become lovers, but every so often a shadow would appear. Her lush mouth would pull down, her brow would furrow with worry, and he knew she was stressing over something. He had a feeling it was because she was hearing the ticking of the clock. Frankly, he was stressing over it, too.

When he’d agreed to her one-week-only terms, he hadn’t been thinking about much beyond getting her naked. Saying goodbye hadn’t sounded so painful if it meant a week of mind-altering sex. But now that he’d become addicted to that mind-altering sex, and, he greatly feared, the woman with whom he was having it, her imminent departure weighed on him heavily.

So ask her to stay. Or to at least keep the lines of communication open when she leaves.

The thought had definitely occurred to him. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to broach the subject with her. He didn’t want her to go, but he also didn’t want to spoil the last few days of the week she’d allotted them by pushing for more before she was ready.

She reached the porch, and he opened the door before she could even grasp the knob.

“Hi.”

The furrow and the frown disappeared, as did the faintly slumped shoulders that hinted she bore some heavy weight. He would like to help her with that, but whenever their conversations turned too personal, she changed the subject by dropping an item of clothing.

Somehow, that always worked.

She draped what looked like a glittery, siren-red dress—God help him—over the railing at the bottom of the stairs. “Hi, yourself.”

Stepping into his arms, she lifted her face for a kiss, and he welcomed her. It felt as right as everything else about them, this easy, coming-home embrace, as if they’d always walked into each other’s arms at the end of a day.

“Success?” he asked.

She nodded. “A little out of my price range, but some of those boutiques are amazing. I think you’re going to like my pretty new outfit.”

The way she said it made it sound like the thing was sweet and innocent. He knew, however, judging by that color and the scantiness of the material, that it would be anything but.

“You’re messing with me, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re going to love my wicked new take-me-now dress.”

He could hardly wait. But considering he’d made other plans for this evening, wanting to show her they could be more to each other than just incredibly erotic sex partners, he figured that would have to wait.

“Did you eat?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” He took her arm and steered her toward the living room, which he’d set up for tonight’s surprise.

When she saw the large, old-fashioned movie projector, and the screen he’d erected against the far wall, she clapped her hands together. “Movie night?”

“You got it.”

Smiling broadly, she walked over to the couch, then saw the feast he’d spread out on the coffee table just beyond it. He had never taken her to a movie, so he’d had to guess what her favorite candy would be. Covering all the bases had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Hot dogs, nachos, popcorn...oh, my God. Dots? You bought me Dots? They’re my absolute favorite,” she gushed, hurrying over and plucking that box from among all the other junk food he’d piled onto the table. “If there’s a wedding ring in this box, I’ll say yes on the spot.”

She was laughing, her eyes sparkling, but the moment the words left her mouth, she winced and bit her bottom lip. Obviously sheepish, she mumbled, “Sorry, I was just...”

“I know,” he said, waving off her explanations. To be honest, he didn’t want to discuss that topic any more than she did. Not because he was upset she’d mentioned it, but because the idea wasn’t as immediately horrifying as he’d have thought a few weeks ago. No, he was in no way ready to get married. But since meeting Candace, he no longer considered
marriage
to be a dirty word.

He couldn’t help wondering if costume designers could telecommute. How strange would it be if it turned out that he’d come up to Sonoma to find out what he wanted from the rest of his life and discovered what he wanted lived back in L.A.?

“So, what are we watching?” she asked as she kicked off her shoes and plopped onto the couch. “One of your great-grandfather’s hits?”

“I don’t know if it was a hit,” he said, eyeing the metal case in which the movie reel had been packed. He walked over to the projector, through which he’d already threaded the film, and flipped it on. Dimming the lights, he explained, “I haven’t seen this one before myself. Judging by the title,
Master of the Heated Sands,
it’s either about a sheikh in a desert or a pimp in Miami.”

She snickered, opened a box of her favorite candy and popped three of the juicy, colorful little treats into her mouth. “Num num,” she murmured as she chewed, her grin as wide as a kid’s.

He’d never developed a taste for gummy candy, but he couldn’t deny he suddenly wondered how the confection would taste when devoured off Candace Reid’s tongue.

“What?” she asked, obviously catching him in his stare as he returned to the couch and sat down next to her.

“I’m suddenly developing a sweet tooth.”

She clutched the box to her chest. “Mine.”