Ten
TEN
“The best thing about storms? They clear the air, bring a fresh start.”
“The best thing about storms is they end. Eventually.”
Con Sulley and Lys Amarga, The Quantum Wraith
“H ockey penalty box, you said.” Xavier’s raspy tones made Sutton shudder. She had to swallow a few times before she had enough moisture in her mouth to answer him.
“Yes. When the time ends, like, say, the sun comes up, we go back to our usual activity as if nothing happened.”
“You don’t have to do this. I’m not expecting anything. If another storm arrives, I promise I’ll come back.” His arms remained by his side, but his fists clenched and unclenched.
“This isn’t a transactional obligation.” She took his right hand in hers, kissed his knuckles, and then turned his hand over to place a kiss against his now open palm. “Here’s how much I want this.” She led his hand between her legs, to the soaked fabric of her panties. “This is how much I want you.”
His eyelids fluttered, and she literally pressed her advantage, guiding his palm to cup hard against her demanding, aching core. “Any additional objections about my possible motivations?” she murmured in his ear.
He shook his head, a knowing grin appearing on his face. His expression made her melt ever faster. “No, ma’am. Did I ever tell you I like hockey?”
“No.” She mock frowned. “You didn’t.”
“Maybe that’s because I didn’t know I appreciated the sport until now, when I learned about this box concept.” His hand no longer needed her assistance. The heel of his palm pushed into her, retreated, rubbing and pulling the fabric of her panties against her aching, demanding clit. His fingers pressed into her, one, two, and she could only gasp and hold on to his shoulders as she rode his knowing, insistent touch. She wanted to slow down, savor this twice in a lifetime night. But she was also greedy for more, harder, faster…
And just like that night, she broke and then flew without barely any warning, her orgasm leaving her shaking and shuddering and mindless, the pleasure so exquisite she saw constellations whirling around her.
“I love watching you do that.” She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with a smug smile on his lips, still stroking her but gently, softly, allowing her to descend safely back to earth.
He earned the smugness, she supposed. But now it was her turn. “And once again, you’re still dressed. I call foul.”
There was far less room in the tent and he helped her push his khakis off, his erection tenting his boxers, promising to be as bold and breathtaking as in her erotic daydreams of the last ten years. But when she reached out to remove that final barrier, he captured her hands in his. “I don’t suppose you have any condoms. Because I don’t.”
She shook her head. “No, sadly. Also, assuming no test results I should know about? Nothing to tell you on my part.”
“No.”
“Good. Because if we are redoing that night….” She freed him from his boxers, her eyes closing at having his silky hard length in her hands once more, hers to survey and learn anew. “This is what comes next.”
She ran her fingers up and down, encircled him, rediscovered which spots elicited a moan, what strokes caused his hips to buck. She played with timing and speed, with pressure and movement, and when his eyes began to roll back in his head, she stopped and gently pushed him back on the air mattress.
He leaned up on his elbows, his eyelids heavy, his jaw clenched in what she knew was an effort to keep his control. “Had your fun? Good. My turn again.”
“Fun hasn’t even started,” she whispered in his ear, before sliding down to take him in her mouth, wanting to moan at the feel of him, the heat, the harness and tension, finally.
This was new. The intent had been there, but the phone call from her parents kept the action from happening. She loved his taste, salty bittersweet and uniquely Xavier. The way he moved, the way his hands tangled in her curls, the way he muttered encouragement and praise with words low and rasped and profane.
The way he looked at her, his gaze wild and dark with physical want, but also something deeper, more hallowed.
His fingers twisted in her hair. “Sutton, stop…”
She didn’t stop. Her fingers found the sensitive ridge of his cock while her tongue worshipped the satiny smooth head, drawing him deeper, exulting as she played with suction, wetness, speed, learning what made him gasp and his hips buck. And when he shouted and tensed, muscles rigid, she didn’t let go but stayed with him, holding him fast with her mouth and her hands until his tremors subsided and his eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She placed on last kiss on his lower stomach before shimmying up to join him, curling into his side. He drew the blanket over them both, tucking the edges around her.
“That was…” His voice trailed off in the dark.
“I know.” She kissed his cheek. “It was.”
“We should probably talk, but—” he yawned “—words…won’t form.”
“Penalty box,” she reminded him. “No talking necessary. Get some rest.”
A light snore was her only response.
She smiled, snuggling closer to his warmth. Not that she would be able to sleep, despite the blackout-inducing orgasm earlier. Thoughts and impressions tumbled through her head: his gasp-moan when her fingers found the sensitive ridge along the length of his cock. The dark fire in his gaze when she pressed his hand against her wetness.
His arms, cradling her, as she shivered with fear. Those same arms holding her as she let go and flew apart. Keeping her safe. Not because he thought she couldn’t protect herself but because he wanted to. Because he cared. About her.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to convince herself he did care.
Or maybe…she was projecting her feelings onto him.
Penalty box , she repeated to herself. None of this would matter once they returned to the Pronghorn. Or so she lied as she fell asleep.
She woke to the first tentative rays of the day streaming through the tent’s mesh window. Xavier must have opened the covering after the rain stopped. The air was cool but promised a hot day ahead, the skies wide open and endlessly blue as if the storms never happened. She stretched out her leg to find Xavier’s to make the most of the time they had before returning to the ranch.
But she encountered only an empty mattress. For a split second, she worried that he had left her, old wounds popping to the surface, until her synapses came fully awake and reminded her she was on top of the truck. Unless he felt like trekking miles through the desert, he was close.
She found her now dry leggings and top and got dressed, and then zipped open the tent opening. Only to pause, struck dumb by the beauty that was Xavier taking photos of the sunrise. He wore only his khakis, slung low on his narrow hips, outlining that glorious ass that had been her privilege to caress and cup. His back muscles rippled under his skin as he hoisted the SLR, framing and the firing one shot after another. The pink-gold light created chestnut highlights in his tousled dark hair that narrowly missed his shoulders. The desert in the early morning was spectacular, the rocks even richer shades of terra-cotta, red and ochre than before, the saguaro cacti standing sentinels against a crisp sky. But Xavier… Xavier was magnificent.
He turned around, a grin appearing when he saw her. She waved, a bit self-conscious, aware she must look far from her best. She enjoyed the front view as much as the rear, her gaze lingering on his chest with its thick mat of crisply curling hair, leading to the dark trail disappearing below the waistband of his pants. He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her frankly objectifying stare, even posing for a brief second like a Greek statute with his camera instead of a slingshot before swinging the SLR up to his right eye and clicking off several photos…of her sitting cross-legged in the opening of the tent, her arms folded in her lap, and her eyes—she didn’t want to know what he might see in her eyes. Lust. Want. Oh, she wanted him. Now. Still. She squirmed with want for him.
But she was also afraid she might want more from him. And that scared her.
“Stop!” she laughed, bringing her hands in front of her face in the universal “no photos, please” stance. “I was reliably informed there would be no paparazzi.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Photographer’s law applies. When one sees a captivating subject, one must capture it.”
She looked to her left, then to her right. “The truck? I guess the tent is interesting.”
“Funny.” He lowered the camera and played with the settings, then rapidly popped off several shots before Sutton could react.
“Hey! I demand photo approval.”
“You won’t want to delete.” He strode to the pickup and handed his camera to her. “Take a look.”
The camera weighed more than she expected, and she balanced it on her lap, bringing her right leg up and putting her foot on the ladder’s top rung to act as a brace. Turning on the screen, she started to swipe through the images.
His landscapes were stunning, playing with angles and lighting, depth of field and focus. A shot of the rising sun between the arms of a saguaro took her breath away with its composition and use of color.
Then she came to the photos of her. And she almost dropped the expensive equipment.
“Careful,” Xavier said, his hands brushing hers to steady the expensive equipment, and she almost lost her grip again. “That’s my favorite camera.”
She stared, transfixed, at the woman on the screen. The Sutton he captured looked confident, happy. She glowed, the morning light casting a halo that outlined her against the blackness of the tent, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. She looked like a woman in love. A woman who was loved. But cameras lied, as she well knew. “I can see why it’s your favorite. The lens flatters the subject.”
“The subject needs no flattery.” He took the camera and began packing his equipment for the drive back while she found a convenient bush and freshened up for the day ahead. They met back at the rear of the truck, and she offered him what she hoped would read as a bright smile. “Time to leave?”
He frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Great, why?” Damn him for his usual perception. Seeing his portraits of her had thrown her, reminded her of the images that had chased her into sleep and embedded in her dreams, where Xavier held her tight and whispered how much he cared against her ear.
He regarded her. “Do we need to talk?”
“About…? Oh, you mean the morning-after talk. We’re good. Aren’t we?”
“I asked you first. You seem a bit off.”
She laughed. If there was a note of artificiality in her mirth, so be it. “I’m great. Because last night was in the—”
“Penalty box.”
“Right.” She nodded. “And you?”
“In the box. All good.”
“Awesome. Then…” she cast about for a change of subject “… I guess we should start putting away the tent—wait! My hat. It’s inside.”
If there was a sign her brain was still jumbled from the activities of the night before, forgetting to wear sun protection in the desert was one. She scrambled up the ladder and found her hat where it had somehow gotten wedged into a corner. A quick run of her fingers through her hair told her she had a tangled mess on top of her head, and she sat in the tent’s opening, feet dangling, while she tucked as many errant curls as she could up into the hat.
But when she went to move her legs, intending to turn around and descend, Xavier used his large palms to hold her thighs in place. She looked down at him. “Pretty sure the tent can’t come down if I stay here.”
“I was wondering.” His tone was casual, but his hands started to trace suggestive patterns on the fabric of her leggings, moving from her outer thighs to inner in lazy sweeps and swirls. “When does the penalty time expire?”
The molten heat that was never far away when he was near began to pool as desire stabbed her deep and low. A shuddering sigh escaped her. “I thought we said in the morning.”
His hands traveled higher, causing her nipples to pebble and her hips to squirm. “It’s still morning,” he pointed out with impeccable logic.
“But shouldn’t we get back to the ranch?” Her legs fell open as his gentle urging and he put to good use his recently learned knowledge of her personal geography, which ultrasensitive spot to whisper his fingers over and which spot to avoid.
“Soon.” He cupped his right hand hard against her, and she whimpered. “I never leave a project unfinished.”
“I’m positive you didn’t—oh!” He deserted her aching core to find the waistband of her leggings. Together they tugged them off, his palms warm on her belly, her ass.
Finally— finally —the fabric barrier was gone, leaving her bare and open to his sight and touch.
“Not enough light last night,” he murmured, his gaze dark and liquid and hot as he took her in. He found her clit, a gentle flick that caused her hips to buck, and then pressed a finger deep inside, her pussy clenching without thought around the welcome invitation. “You’re so wet,” he said with something like awe in his voice.
She laughed, both at his expression and for the sheer pleasure-joy of the moment. “For you.”
She’d never been this exposed outdoors, never skinny dipped, never even stripped in a private backyard. She hadn’t showered in a day; she was wearing yesterday’s clothes. And this was the most erotic experience of her life to date.
He lifted his gaze to hold hers. Pinning her in place. Not letting her escape. “You’re gorgeous, Sutton. The camera has no idea.”
Her breath was gone and with it her words. But if anyone deserved to be captured on film, it was him. Xavier, his dark gaze blazing, his beautiful lips in a half smile, his warm-toned olive skin burnished by the morning sun and looking at her as if she were everything he could ever want.
Her heart hurt.
Her future wouldn’t hold Xavier. They’d made their pact. They were colleagues with mutual goals, nothing more. But this moment, this connection, this hot burning flame threatening to consume her and leave nothing but smoldering ash—this moment could never be taken away from her. She could no longer hold herself upright and she fell onto her elbows, her focus solely on him and his exploring hands.
His fingers paid homage to her clit, at first gentle, delicate. Then the rhythm that sent her over the edge began to build. They might not have much time, but she didn’t need much, the spiraling pressure building and building until—
He stopped.
Her eyes flew open. What was wrong? Did something…? Was he not…?
He caught her gaze and he smiled. It was not a nice smile. His expression was devious and dirty and told her he knew exactly how near the precipice she was and what would send her over. Her pulse, already racing, began to beat in staccato rhythm as he held her there, his thumb lightly brushing over her clit, his fingers pressing deep whenever she started to back away from the edge. Just when she thought she couldn’t take the provocation any longer, he lowered his head, kissing her stomach, tasting her thighs. “This is the project I didn’t get to last night.”
He replaced his fingers with his mouth.
She dissolved into pure flame, her world reduced to heat and wetness and the rasp of his beard against sensitive, sensitized skin. His mouth worshipped her small bud of nerves, paying persistent attention as his hands gripped her legs, holding her still when she would squirm from so much pressure, so much suction, a whirlpool of desire and want she could not escape, would not be allowed to escape. His tongue dove and laved, licking, sucking, commanding she be present, here, focused only on him and her and the fire demanding she give herself over, fly apart for him in broad daylight, outdoors, no pretense, nowhere to hide—
She screamed, the flame consuming her, the tension releasing in a burst of energy so bright, so powerful she lost all sense of reality, lost somewhere in distant galaxy of pure sensation. He hummed appreciatively against her, his ministrations slowing, bringing her down from the enormous peak she just summited. She leaned up on her elbows, her hazy gaze slowly focusing on the sight of Xavier’s tousled dark hair between her thighs. This. This would be the memory that sent a thousand vibrators to their graveyard in her future.
Xavier raised his head when her limbs went completely lax. He smiled at her and her heart, already overloaded, could no longer muster the defenses for her walls. She was falling in love with Xavier. And it wasn’t the crush-on-her-talented-professor kind of love, the first love of a young adult who was testing her boundaries after a restrictive childhood. This was true, honest, deep.
And hopeless.
Still, she mustered a smile for him. Made it seductive, knowing, as she slowly sat up straight and rearranged her clothes, her nerves still thrumming even as delicious entropy set in, her arms and legs heavy. She carefully made her way down the ladder, coming up flush against him. The heavy bulge in the front of his khakis demanded her attention and her hands cupped, stroked. “Turnabout is fair play.”
But when she would coax the zipper of his fly open, his hands grasped hers, stilling their movements. “Believe me, there is nothing I want more,” he said. “But we should get going.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You seem less…glum.”
If only he knew. She hugged her recent revelation close, so it wouldn’t escape. “Hard to be glum when you’re still seeing stars on the inside of your eyelids. I could offer you a rain check?”
Too late, she realized the concept of rain checks were not compatible with the time sensitive penalty box pretense they were using. “Or not,” she continued airily. “How do we put the tent away?”
In the end, taking down the structure took only a matter of minutes, Sutton admiring the ingenuity of whoever decided pop-up tents for trucks needed to be a thing and then creating one. They silently ensured they left no trace at their impromptu camping site, securing their trash to deposit in civilization. Before the sun could move much further above the horizon they were in their seats, the sky serenely blue, with only the odd remaining puddle serving as evidence of last night’s storm.
Xavier put the truck into gear, and before Sutton knew it they were on the main road that would take them back to the highway and then to Pronghorn. He looked over at her. “Tired?”
“Not really.” She stared out her window, watching the landscape flash by.
He gripped the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road. “When I took custody of Erik, I made a vow. He would come first. I’d raise him with all the care and love Rosalie had planned to give him.”
She shot him a glance, curious as to why he brought up Erik. “And from what I can tell, you’re doing just that.”
“I knew he would have to grow up without Rosalie. And his dad…his dad is a real piece of work.”
She touched his thigh, a brush of comfort. “You’ve said.”
“My parents…well. They never left me alone in a hotel room when I was three. They have that going for them. But they’re not what people would call involved. Or present.”
Xavier and Sutton were on a straight stretch of the highway, with few other cars out so early on a Sunday. This time she let her hand rest on his leg. His left hand remained firmly on the steering wheel, but his right hand found hers, squeezed tight.
“I didn’t want Erik to grow up like I did, with parents who were more emotionally absent than not. And Erik’s bio parents either couldn’t or wouldn’t be with him. It was up to me to ensure he had stability and security. It was the least I could do for him. Him and Rosalie.”
“I’m glad he has you,” she said softly. “I like spending time with him.”
“About that.” He shot a glance at her and brought both hands to the steering wheel. “I’ve had my share of relationships, some serious. One, I thought was maybe heading toward marriage.”
Her heart gave an unexpected, painful thump. “Was that Mimi Kingston?” she asked in what she hoped was a light tone.
“You know about Mimi?”
“Keep your eyes on the road, please,” she teased. “And, no, not really. Contessina said something about how you don’t do showmance hookups, and she implied Mimi was the reason.”
“Contessina said something?”
“You know how crews like to gossip.”
He shook his head. “Anyway, Mimi and I eventually realized we weren’t meant for the long haul. But Erik took the breakup hard.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Erik’s had too many people leave him. I won’t bring anyone into his life who doesn’t expect to stay.”
Apparently there was no escaping a morning-after talk. “We’re work colleagues who took a time-out, and now we’re returning to work. And I don’t picture diamond rings and weddings dresses after one night of sex, Xavier. No matter how amazing it was.”
“I’ll take the compliment.” He shot her an unreadable glance. “So. I’ve been thinking. I wouldn’t mind if we had more time in the penalty box.”
Her pulse started to two-step, but she tamped down her hopes. “Wouldn’t mind? I just said the sex was amazing, but you, quote, ‘wouldn’t mind’?” she teased, affecting a light tone.
His hands relaxed their tight grip. “Let me rephrase. I want to spend more time with you. Beginning with that rain check.”
“I see.” Her hopes refused to stay subdued. “And you told me about Erik because…”
“This stays between us. Nothing has changed as far as the others on the set know.” His glance at her was questioning, as if unsure how she would take the condition.
That was more than fine with her. “I’d have to insist,” she said. “It’s hard enough being a woman in this industry. You can have a consensual fling on location with whoever you want when it comes to public opinion, but I’ll be judged and found wanting of, oh, so many things. Morals, sound reasoning, the ability to control my emotions, the list goes on.”
He nodded. “Good ol’ double standard.”
“Yep. And if I want my promotion…” Acid splashed in her stomach at the thought of Zeke Fountaine discovering she was sleeping with Xavier. He would leverage that knowledge against her, however he could.
“Then maybe we shouldn’t.” He glanced over. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”
The concern in his voice caused her heart flip over.
Sutton didn’t do risk. She made her choices as strategically as possible. to maximize her opportunities to build her career and maintain her financial independence. She lived in fear of proving her parents right and failing, forcing a move back to Orange County and a life working for the family real estate empire like her father.
But she’d be damned if she let worries about Zeke or anyone else at Monument keep her from Xavier. Even if their relationship was only for the duration of production. Even if she knew their futures would always be separate. “As far as I’m concerned, we have ten years of rain checks to make up for and I intend to cash in every single one.”