Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
brENT’S GAZE FOLLOWED RAYNE ROSE as she sashayed toward his house. At least he thought it was a sashay. Looked sassy and determined to him.
He paused for a moment. But only a moment.
He'd been honest with his words. Rayne was different from the other women he’d dated. They had a history that meant the physical side of their relationship wasn’t to be rushed. They weren’t about sex, comfort, or ease. But he also wasn’t dog-ass stupid. He'd craved the sweetness of Rayne ever since he'd sprouted hair in unmentionable places on his body. So was he going to leave her hanging?
Hell to the no, no, no.
He rounded the rail of the porch, stopping only to grab the bottle of olive oil that Frances handed him silently as he passed the front door.
"Keep an eye on Henry when he gets home?” he asked as he trotted down the front steps.
"No problem," Frances said before closing the front door.
He was certain he'd seen a smile on her lips.
Glancing down at the bottle, he stutter-stepped. Oil seemed a bit kinky, but they were covered in paint. More of a necessity really.
When he reached his place, the French door stood ajar, an invitation to the mystery of a very complicated woman. He stepped inside. No lights, but the afternoon sunlight streaming through the sheers showed him exactly what he wanted to see.
A very naked Rayne.
"Dear God, woman," he said, closing the door and turning the lock. “You aren’t wearing any clothes.”
“Oh, you noticed." She stretched, raising her long arms above her head and arching her back. Her breasts rose and he nearly squealed with excited meant. Hell, yes. What he wanted. What he needed. He thought about dropping to his knees and crawling to her.
Instead he bent and unlaced his work boots.
"Do you want me to cover up with the throw you used last time?" she asked. Her voice was low, seductive. Very naughty.
"Are you sure about this, Rayne Bow?" He purposely used one of her childhood nicknames. He wanted her to realize what she was doing. Once they made love, there was no going back.
She moved closer to him. He caught the scent of vanilla, the sweet goodness that was signature Rayne. His body tightened.
"I'm sure, Brent." She ran her fingers over his naked shoulder. It might as well have been a cattle prod - he set the olive oil on the table, toed off his boots, and prayed there were no holes in his socks. Nope. He wore the newer ones. Good.
Rayne dropped her arms and set her hands on her delicious hips. Her hair curled over her shoulders, framing the sweetness of her face. She held her lightly freckled shoulders back so that her rose-tipped breasts jutted forward. Her taut stomach tapered to round hips and long legs that seemed to go on forever. She watched him as he perused her body.
When he met her gaze, she smiled. Gone was shy, stammering girl he doted so sweetly on all those year. No, this grown woman was his match in every way. Made for him.
A rightness settled over him, along with a serious need to scoop her up, take her to his bed, and do all the crazy wicked things he'd imagined in the wee hours of the past few mornings.
Gut instinct.
His told him to do this right.
"Okay, naughty girl,” he said, stroking lightly against her collarbone. Her breath caught and those cinnamon eyes dilated. She bit her lower lip and studied him. He slid a finger down to the top of her breast. “Shower first? We're a little... messy." '
“I like messy," she said, running her hand lightly over the hair on his chest. And for the first time in a long time, Brent felt nervous about being with a woman.
Not because what had happened weeks ago with Tamara. On the contrary, he might have the opposite problem. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know his way around a woman’s body. His moves were so practiced, his knowledge so vast that he could likely write a book. Sex wasn’t an issue, but making love to a woman he …well, cared deeply for, almost worshipped, well, that unnerved him.
But Brent wasn’t going to let a little nervousness stop him.
He tumbled back in time as he reached out a hand to test the weight of her breast. Once again, he was tangled with Rayne beneath the weeping willow, daring her to let him touch her, scared to get caught working on his moves. Back then, she’d been wearing clothes. Now she was everything that teen boy could never imagine.
She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. A hot weight settled in his chest before sinking deeper into his loins. He'd never wanted a woman like this before. He'd spent forever waiting on Rayne, and now she would be his.
Surreal.
He threaded his hands through her curls, cupping her head, angling her so he could deepen the kiss. She tasted like innocence. She tasted like temptation. She tasted like Rayne.
He groaned his pleasure into her mouth and allowed his hands to glide down the smoothness of her back to cup her sweet bottom. He hauled her against his body because she felt so damn good. So different than the girl she’d been. But his hands remembered her body, the way she felt even if she had more curves now.
He broke the kiss and buried his head in the meeting of her neck and body, inhaling her fragrance, nipping the sensitive flesh of her throat.
"Brent," she breathed against him, running her hands down his back. When she reached his waistband, she slid her hands beneath to his buttocks. Desire sank its teeth in him.
He ripped himself from her and reached for the fly of his jeans. "I'd like to do this right. Slow and sweet. Make you come, watch your eyes. I don’t know if I can-”
Her hands stilled him. She caressed his shoulder, tracing a smudge of paint. "We don't have to go slow, but it's our first time. I've waited a long time for you, Brent Hamilton."
Her words slid over him. She was right. He was no randy teenager, no matter how she made him feel.
“You know how sexy you are? Know how close I am to losing control?"
She clasped his erection through his boxers. "l've got an idea."
“Rayne,” he groaned, biting her shoulder again. "You're not helping matters doing things like that."
He pulled her hand from his hardness. She laughed.
"Shower?"
"No,'' she said. "Bed."
He grinned. "I'll have to buy you a new dress and myself some new sheets."
She gave him a mysterious smile. One that was part Mona Lisa, part devil. "It'll be worth it. I promise."
"Damn," he breathed as she turned and headed for his room. "Where did you learn how to turn me on so much?”
She turned, all her parts jiggling in all the right places. His mouth went dry. "I learned this from you."
RAYNE COULDN'T BELIEVE how empowered she felt. Couldn't believe how naughty she’d been - stripping down naked and waiting on him. Brent had fallen under her power for once. Heady stuff. And she loved it.
For years she'd dreamed of the way he’d seduce her. His practiced lips trailing down her stomach, his knowledgeable fingers strumming her like a lyre. His closed eyes as he slid inside her. But never had she imagined she'd be the one calling the plays. Felt good to take the reins, to tell him what she wanted, how, when, where.
She turned and waited in his doorway, reveling in the way his gaze caressed her body. His normally icy eyes were the color of the blue in a flame. Hot, molten blue. His gaze was like a touch, burning her thighs, searing her breasts. He was hungry and she was the willing feast.
Might as well offer herself to him. So she leaned back on the door frame, slid her hands to cup her breasts, arched her back ever so slightly. An offering, a bounty, satisfying enough to feed the flames of his fire.
But sweet heavens, his gaze went a bit feral. She now knew how the poor bunny felt beneath the shadow of the hawk.
Their bodies crashed together in the sweetest collision as he swept her against him. She wound her arms around his shoulders and allowed him to lift her from her feet and carry her to the big bed that dominated the small room.
He'd made his bed that morning. Impressive. And he was responsible enough to tug the coverlet from the bed and toss it in a corner.
"New quilt," he murmured against her lips as he laid her across the burgundy sheets. He didn't join her immediately. Instead he lifted himself from her and stared at her lying naked before him in a way that flipped their power dynamic. He now looked like a man in charge, a man plotting how he would make her …scream?
Yes, please.
She decided to meet him toe to toe. Rayne tugged her hair from beneath her and allowed it to fan out around her head. She kept her hands beneath her head and crossed her feet, trying for absolute casualness, even though her heart raced in her chest. "Now you've got me, sailor. What are you going to do with me?"
His teeth flashed in the dimness of the room and he chuckled. "Let's see. The toilet needs scrubbing, my khakis need ironing, and the icemaker has been giving me fits.”
She made as though to get up. “If that’s what you really want…”
He playfully pushed her back. “Nah. Maybe I’d rather sample your other talents. Let’s see…what should I do with you first?”
“I could kiss you?"
"Nah. Too mundane.”
She reached up and traced a finger down his belly. "I didn't say where."
He closed his eyes, smiled, then covered her body with his.
And that’s all it took for the playfulness to flee. Passion showed up, and passion meant business.
Brent's deliciously heavy body meshed against hers in all the right places. He wrapped his arms around her so there was no space between them. She felt him everywhere. And it was so very right.
Rayne twined her arms around his neck as his lips came down on hers. He plundered her mouth, giving her no time to think. She could only feel.
His hands moved everywhere. They stroked, they explored, they pushed the limit and then pulled back, knowing exactly how to play her. And she returned the favor, stroking the leanness of his hip, that broad, muscled back, the back of his sensitive thigh.
Finally, when she could hardly stand anymore kissing - delicious though it was - he rolled off her, resting on his side. His gaze caressed, then he followed up with his hand, stroking all the parts he hadn’t been able to reach atop her. Seconds turned into minutes. Resolve turned to surrender. Like a magician he worked her, parting her thighs, teasing, and playing until he took her over the edge.
Rayne shattered, coming apart, heightened by the fact, he watched her as she came.
“Jesus,” she panted, breathing hard.
“The Reverend Beach wouldn’t approve of you taking the Lord’s name in vain.” His eyes danced as he continued his ministrations.
Despite her intentions of returning the favor, her body reacted, falling back into blissful pleasure where nothing existed but waves of sensation. It was as if once he’s started her up, she couldn’t stop. “Brent.”
“Ah, that’s the name I’m looking for,” he murmured, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss.
She wanted him inside her. Wanted all of him. But he didn't stop touching her, teasing, breaking her again. In fact, he seemed most content to take his time making love to her.
His caresses weren't by rote. His motions weren't mechanical or practiced. Instead, they felt new and tender, almost tentative, as if he were touching a woman for the first time.
He lightly slid his hands over her, brushing the curve her waist. fanning her belly. "You're so beautiful. I feel like I've never done this before. Like I've never had sex, never touched a woman here-'' he brushed the back of his hand across her breast "-or here."
He returned to the juncture of her thighs, taking her breath away again. “I can’t stop…you have to-”
He didn’t stop and she broke against him again.
Finally, she managed to catch her breath, slid a hand to his bristly jaw, and cupped his face. "It feels new to me, too. You didn't have whiskers the first time I kissed you."
He cupped a breast before dropping a kiss atop it. "And you didn't have boobs. Or at least not this much."
She reached down and clasped his erection, sliding her hand over the smoothness of him, causing him to suck in his breath. “Turnabout deserves fair play, doesn’t it?"
He smiled, but didn't stop stroking her. "Would I ever disagree with you?"
She arched one eyebrow, eliciting a wink. He sighed. “Okay, you can touch me now.”
So she did, punishing him by taking her own sweet time torturing him, driving him so close to the edge, he literally grit his teeth.
"Rayne, no more," he panted, pulling her from him.
"Condom?" she whispered into his ear, as she kissed the ridge, nipping it playfully.
"Drawer on your side.” He sighed, moving down to kiss her stomach, making her gasp and fumble with finding the stupid box in the depths of the drawer.
Still, less than a minute later, he was sheathed and between her thighs. He gave her the smile of all smiles. She'd never seen one so pure from a man who had such an arsenal.
"I've been waiting years for this."
She held up her arms, beckoning him to fill them. "You have been waiting years."
He bent one of her legs, pushed it so her knee nearly touched the tip of her breast and slid home. Rayne gasped as he filled her. It wasn't only a physical fullness, but an emotional one. And it was strange and wonderful at the same time. Her heart felt as if it would burst and dampness gathered on her lashes. She felt overwhelmed by this man she’d dreamed of for so long and the fulfillment of having him inside her, joined with her. As hokey as it seemed, she knew it was more than sex, more than a connection. She couldn't truly name it.
So she just rolled with it.
He moved inside her, a steady rhythm, building the tension, pulling it taut. He thrust slow and deep, before losing his own control. He panted her name over and over in her ear like a mantra. And before she knew it, they both arched over the backyard fence, up to the sun, exploding into a thousand lovely pieces that she felt all over her body, tips of toes to the top of her head.
Then she fell back, out of breath, totally enraptured by what had occurred between them. It wasn't as if she hadn't reached an orgasm before. She had. But this... this was so intense. She couldn't speak. No words.
So she didn't try for them. She lay replete. Fulfilled.
The ceiling fan whirred above them, brushing their heated flesh with a gentle breeze. Brent shifted off her, fell to his back, and breathed, "Wow."
"I know, right?" She smiled at the whirring fan because she didn't have the energy to even turn her head. Her body was a pool of repletion. She felt so good. So damn good.
They lay there for a good five minutes, neither saying a word to the other. Nothing but sweet silence. Until a buzzing interrupted.
"What's that? Your phone?" Brent asked, finally lifting his head.
Rayne managed to lift her own. "Yeah."
''You going to get it?"
“Probably just Meg . She’s having trouble with a supplier at Serendipity and has already called me twice.” Rayne didn't want to get up. Instead she wanted to pretend she and Brent were on a deserted island, a private oasis of delight. She wanted to make love to him again. This time, she wanted to be on top so she could watch him, but instead she crept from the bed, padded the short distance to the living area, and found her phone in the pocket of her abandoned sundress.
The number on display was unfamiliar. Oak Stand number, so not Meg.
She pressed the answer button.
"Mom?" His small voice was frantic and whispery.
"Henry, what's wrong?"
"The bus left me."
A wealth of information in those words. Her son had been left behind. He was scared. And she was standing naked in Brent's living room.
"I'll be right there, honey."