The Perfect Indulgence Page 11

  After a minute or two of tormenting him with her mouth, she let him go and knelt next to him, drawing her top up and over her head, hoping to torment him in a different way. Under it she wore a lacy black bra that earned a murmur of masculine approval, which encouraged her. She reached behind her to unhook it, and with a start realized she had no worries about the size and shape of her breasts, or whether Zac would find them too small, too pointed, too whatever.

  Chris was enjoying this fling so much. No anxiety, no worries about whether she was right for him or he for her, just here I am, here you are, let’s do this.

  The bra slid off. Zac’s cock jumped. “Mmm, Chris, you are so hot.”

  Her confidence grew even more. She slid her knit pants down her hips, sat on the bed to kick them off, then knelt back on the mattress, watching him enjoy the sight of her breasts, then drop his gaze expectantly to her panties.

  She let him wait until he looked up questioningly and caught her sly smile.

  Mistake.

  Growling, he lunged and yanked down her panties, toppled her over and dragged them off, tossing them over his shoulder onto the sand.

  Then his hands clamped on her hips and he lowered his face until it hovered between her legs, abruptly silencing her shrieks and giggles.

  Oh, my.

  The cool breeze blew over her, the waves rolled in, the heater whirred.

  At the first touch of his tongue Chris nearly lifted off the bed. The warm, wet strokes were doubly intense after she’d been lying wide-open to the chill of the night air. Taking her cue from him, she relaxed instead of straining her hips to his mouth as her body was begging her to do, allowing him to control the process.

  Within minutes she discovered that not moving allowed her to concentrate minutely on the intimate movements of his tongue, on the slippery wetness and the skillfully varying strokes and pressures.

  His fingers joined his tongue, spreading her labia, allowing him to travel down and around, painting her fully.

  Chris moaned and lifted her head, let it drop, clutching at the sheets, on the verge of going over again. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to come twice, now she was barely able to hold back.

  “Zac.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Not now. Not yet. I want to come with you inside me.”

  “You will.” He thrust a finger up into her, closing his lips over her clitoris and sucking hard. Chris gave a choked yell and a second orgasm swept her, lifting her to a burning peak for one long, nearly unbearably intense moment before the sensation burst and spread, leaving her convulsing under Zac’s mouth, her internal muscles squeezing around his finger.

  Eventually, she recovered sufficiently to speak again, between still-fast breaths. “Oh. My. Gosh.”

  He kissed her clitoris lingeringly, nuzzled the inside of each thigh, then kissed his way up her stomach. “You liked that?”

  “Um. Yes?” She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “But we have another problem now.”

  “What’s that?” He lay next to her, propped up on his elbow, hand possessively on her stomach, his erection poking her side.

  “I’m ahead by two.”

  His deep chuckle delighted her. “Yeah, I’m pretty pissed off about that.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She slid her hand surreptitiously under the pillow, looking for a condom. “It’s greedy of me.”

  He shook his head mournfully. “Pret-ty selfish.”

  She came up with a packet and held it to his chest, then pushed him over on his back. “Your turn.”

  “Oh, boy.” He was so eager she found herself giggling again. She’d never been able to play like this in bed, to laugh and not take the lovemaking completely seriously. This change was delightful.

  Had she mentioned she liked flings?

  “Hold still, Zac. This won’t hurt a bit.” She tore open the packet and rolled the condom onto his erection, which was so hard she had no trouble whatsoever.

  He helped her to straddle him, grasping her hips and guiding her over him. “Now?”

  “No, no, not yet. First we’re going to have a long discussion about—”

  “Now.” His strong hands pushed downward. His cock found her, pressing strongly, demanding entrance.

  She closed her eyes, savoring the hardness between her legs, the promise of joining to him in this incredibly intimate way. “I guess now is okay.”

  “Mmm, good.” He let her weight sink her down, allowing the tip of his cock inside her, stretching her, sending nerve signals firing.

  Chris gasped and let out a moan, unable to believe how she could still be this turned on after coming twice tonight. She lifted, then sank again, her arousal increasing. Once more and she was rewarded with the long, slow, easy slide of Zac’s erection inside her, and the ragged breath, almost of relief, that told her this felt really, really good to him, too.

  She rocked her pelvis back and forth, concentrating on the length of him filling her completely. “Mmm, Zac, that is really nice.”

  “Yes.” He spoke tersely. “Really nice.”

  Smiling, she planted her hands forward on the bed, and lifted and lowered her hips, savoring the slip and slide of him, in and out, in and out.

  “Chris.” He was breathing with difficulty, hands urging her along as she pumped him.

  She opened her eyes to find him watching her, jaw clenched, chin jutting, and pretended concern. “Hey, are you okay? You look sort of...desperate.”

  “Um. Yeah. You’re making me kind of nuts.”

  “Gee, is that bad?”

  “At my age I’m supposed to be able to last all night.”

  “So I must be doing something wrong?” She lifted up off her hands, balancing her weight over her thighs, and crossed her arms behind her head, arching her back, riding him harder, up and down, up and down...

  “No.” He was barely able to speak. “Definitely not... Oh, my sweet—”

  A breath hissed out between his clenched teeth, his fingers dug into her hips. He gave a brief yell and held her still over him and she felt him pulsing inside her, over and over until he gave a soft groan and lay still.

  Pleasure welled up inside her, too. She felt crazy sexy, like nothing she’d ever felt before. Maybe it was the romance of the cabana, the wild isolation of the cove and the distant awesome beauty of the stars. But she suspected it had more to do with the man in this beautiful bed.

  “Come down here with me.” He pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her.

  Chris burrowed against his chest, closing her eyes, inhaling the warm skin under her cheek.

  He stroked her gently, her hair, her back, her arms, occasionally dropping kisses on the top of her head.

  “Oh, Chris.”

  At his whisper, in the midst of her satisfied afterglow, lying in his strong arms, an unexpected sweetness stole over her. And an unexpected longing.

  Zac started talking, stroking her, telling her how he’d wanted her for so long. Telling her how much he admired what she’d accomplished at the shop, how much he enjoyed her sense of humor, her strength, her spark and fire.

  The sweetness spread through her chest, and she thought of how she’d wanted him for so long, too, though her blocked self wouldn’t let her recognize it. And how much she admired what he’d accomplished in his life, and how much she enjoyed his sense of humor and his strength...

  Then he turned her face up to his, rolled her onto her back, covered her with his large, strong, comforting body and kissed her as if she was the most amazing woman he’d ever come across or would ever come across.

  No, no. A fling was all she wanted, all that was good for her, and it was all Zac wanted, too. Any other feelings would only mess that up.

  9

  GUS OPENED ONE eye blearily to sunshine and blue sky, sand under his cheek. Huh? He lifted his head and blinked, squinting. Aura Beach. What the—?

  He moved cautiously into a seated position. Man, he was stiff. What had—
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  Gus let out a groan. Last night, Pete’s Tavern. That girl had come on to him. She was sorta hot, not really, something kind of off, but he’d been doing shots and wasn’t in a picky mood. They came down here, smoked a few joints—killer stuff—had some laughs, and then things had just started happening...

  Aw, man. He buried his head in his hands and crumpled sideways back onto the sand.

  Chicks should not turn out to be dudes, that was all he had to say about that.

  “Did you have a heart attack?” The child’s voice surprised him. “My grandfather had one. Mom said he keeled over. Is that what you just did?”

  He lifted his head. Little girl. Blue eyes, blond curls, five or six years old. Totally cute. “Nah. I’m okay.”

  “Mom says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but I thought if you were dead it would be okay.”

  “Where’s your mom now?”

  “At home.” She pointed carelessly over her shoulder. “Aunt Pammy brought me.”

  Gus’s gaze followed her finger. His jaw dropped.

  Hurrying toward them, blue eyes, blond curls and awe-inspiring curves outlined by a wet suit was a woman—a real one this time. He was sure.

  She was carrying a board.

  Gus rose unsteadily to his feet, heart pounding, mouth dry, head buzzing like he was still high.

  This was it. She was it.

  He was in love for the very first and very last time in his life.

  * * *

  SUMMER WOKE TO a pounding on the door. What time was it? She’d been awake for a while around five, her usual time to get up for work, but had managed to go back to sleep. She peered groggily at the clock next to her futon. Ten! She hadn’t slept that late in forever. Ugh, she hated wasting so much of the day.

  The pounding sounded again—the downside to a broken doorbell, which the landlord had dragged his feet about fixing. Summer should just give up and look for DIY instructions online, which was what she did for most things that broke in the house. Their landlord had seriously draggy feet.

  She grabbed a robe she’d had since early high school, purple flowers on a pale cream background—first thing she bought with her very first paycheck from Von’s grocery store—and wrapped it around herself, hurrying toward the door.

  “Coming.” It was probably her brother, Ted, who always knocked as if he were being chased by zombie cops. “Who is it?”

  “Hey! It’s me. Open up!”

  She started, eyes widening. Not Ted. Luke.

  Oh, great. After the unpleasantness last time she saw him, she’d get to encounter him again with stinky breath and bedhead, her futon in the living room still open and made as a bed.

  Though maybe he deserved it.

  She opened the door, not sure what to expect or how to act around him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, good morning, beautiful day. Aren’t you glad to see me?” Grinning, eyes hidden behind the smoky-gray sunglasses, he held up two take-out bags from Slow Pour. “I brought us breakfast.”

  At the sight of him all her anger—okay, most of it—melted away, and she was perversely, ridiculously glad to see him. She’d spent way too long going over their argument and had concluded that neither of them deserved medals for good behavior. Though of course Luke had behaved much worse than she had. “Why should I be glad to see you?”

  “Because I’m here to apologize for being a dork. After you accept, we can be friends again and hang out again today. Let me in?”

  Summer made an exasperated sound, barely able to keep her mouth from twitching. His arrogant charm was potent stuff. “You’re taking for granted that I’ll forgive you?”

  “Sure. You will, won’t you?”

  She sighed and stepped back. “You might as well come in.”

  “Sweet.” He seemed taller in the house, looking around openly with his glasses tipped down. He wasn’t wearing the eyebrow ring today. She liked him better without it. “Nice little place.”

  “It works for us.”

  “You sleep in the living room?”

  “It’s a one-bedroom. My roommate sleeps in there.” She pointed to Janine’s door, kept closed because it was easier than getting her to tidy up.

  “She still asleep?”

  “She’s over at her boyfriend’s place. She spends most nights there.” Why was she telling him this?

  He followed her into the tiny kitchen. “You should get the bedroom if she’s not here that much.”

  “Bedroom occupant pays more rent.” Summer opened the door to the refrigerator. “I’m going to shower and dress. Do you want some orange juice?”

  “I brought some. Sort of.” He put the bags on the counter and pulled out a bottle of Suja, looking bemused. “It’s orange, anyway.”

  “That’s their Bliss mix. It’s awesome. Suja juices are really good.”

  “If you say so.” He dipped his hand into the bag again. “Though there’s one flavor called Master Cleanse. I’m telling you, I do not even want to know.”

  “Welcome to California.” She gestured to the stove, where her bright red kettle gleamed like new. If you took care of stuff it didn’t need to look as old as it was. “Should I make coffee?”

  “I’ve got that, too. And muffins. I brought a bunch. I didn’t know what you like.”

  He wasn’t kidding. He had about six of the huge, delicious muffins they sold at Slow Pour and several different kinds of juice. It must have cost a bundle. She loved the food and drinks served at the shop, but no way could she afford them.

  Wait, Luke didn’t have a job. Was Zac footing the bill for their breakfast? That wasn’t right.

  “Who paid for all this?” The second the question was out of her mouth she wanted it back. So not her business.

  “I did.” He looked annoyed. He had a right to be. “That a problem?”

  “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” She felt herself blushing. “I just... I worry about money all the time. But it’s not my place to worry about yours.”

  “No, it’s not. But it’s really not cool to assume I would throw money around I didn’t have.” He opened one of the coffees and took a sip, watching her over the rim of the cup, eyes challenging. “You don’t know me—why expect the worst?”

  Summer’s stomach turned sick. He was right. She’d adopted a superior attitude from the beginning, as if he was the poor little screwup and she was perfect. She could suddenly see their fight in a different light, and it looked as if she might have been the one who behaved worse. “I’m sorry for that, too.”

  “If you want to know the truth, I’m a spoiled rich kid. Mom’s family has tons and Zac and I inherited. Feel better?”

  No, she didn’t. “It was stupid to assume—”

  “And make an ass out of you and me.” He grinned that charming grin. “Go shower and don’t worry about it, Summer. Really. I know how I come across. I’m working on it, along with a crap load of other stuff. Soon I’ll be without any flaws at all, just like everyone else.”

  “Aw, Luke...”

  “I’m serious. Go clean up. I’m hungry.” He gave her a gentle nudge. “Go. It’s really okay.”

  “I’ll be back soon.” She fled to the bathroom, still feeling awful. Somehow she’d gone from being the injured party to the injurer. Instead of blaming her, Luke had been incredibly understanding and sweet, which made her feel worse. She wasn’t used to that. Her family disagreements escalated exponentially and loudly, the emphasis on winning rather than communicating.

  But then, Luke hadn’t been raised in her family. A rich kid from Connecticut? He might as well have been born on another planet. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much. Because she no longer had an advantage? God, she hated to think she was that type of person.

  There was another possible reason, one she wasn’t crazy about acknowledging. Luke had seemed approachable as an irresponsible, drifting screwup. If he was an East Coast prep school trust-fund baby, that put him about as far out of her le
ague as Zac was.

  So be it. Summer had managed to be friends with his brother; she could be a friend to Luke, too, tell her heart to stop beating so quickly around him, and focus on her own life and her own goals.

  She showered quickly, brushed her teeth and threw on sweatpants and a pink cotton sweater, not bothering with makeup. Luke had already seen her without any and she didn’t want to seem to be primping for him.

  By the time she got back to the kitchen, he’d found glasses and plates and arranged their breakfast on the table, in the center of which stood a vase containing white tulips and purple hyacinths.

  “Luke.” Summer clasped her hands to her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had given her flowers. And this guy did so after she’d insulted him. “Where did those come from?”

  “The florist.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I mean, where did you hide them?”

  “Outside your door.” He was clearly pleased with himself. “If you hadn’t let me in or weren’t home, I was going to leave it. The lady told me the purple ones mean I’m sorry and the tulips stand for new beginnings. I figured that about covered it.”

  “Thank you.” She was deeply touched. Not only had he gotten her flowers, he’d cared about which ones to buy.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry about the fight after San Miguel.” He looked it, too, sincere and a little embarrassed, all his smugness gone. “I was pissed because we had a nice time and I felt like you could be a real friend, and then you said you didn’t trust me, which is stupid. Of me, I mean, to be pissed that you didn’t. I thought we were...I don’t know. I’m kind of a mess right now, so I shouldn’t blame you.”

  “I get it. I really do.” She folded her arms across her chest. He was being really sweet again. One minute after she’d told herself to keep it under control, her heart was racing again, and she was feeling weirdly vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have said I felt sorry for you. That was mean and not really true the way it came out.”

  “It’s okay, you were mad. I like that you give as good as you get.” His grin came back halfway. “So...we’re good?”

  “We’re good.”

  They smiled at each other until the awkwardness was nearly unbearable.