In Your Wildest Dreams Page 26

  He swallowed past the lump that had just risen in his throat with the realization that. . . "You do that, too, beb. You make me forget. When I'm with you..." How to explain? It felt so complicated inside him—and yet, so utterly simple, too. "When I'm with you, there is nothin' else."

  She continued peering up at him from below as she licked her lips, then lowered her mouth over him. His breath went instantly ragged, his hands slowly kneading her hair and scalp. He had to brace his knees to keep from going down as spirals of sensation swirled through his torso, chest, thighs.

  He watched her, her ministrations brimming with so much emotion—and that was what was burying him. He'd told her once that it was the act of connecting with a woman's body that moved him the most—but somehow, right now, he found himself thinking this was the most amazing sex he'd ever had. He knew no woman had ever given him more of herself.

  When she reached for his hand and drew him onto the bed, he was more than happy to snuggle in close against the rise and fall of her body, their tongues mingling in slow, thorough passion. Part of him could have lain there all night, just kissing her, touching her. But he craved more, so he found himself moving south.

  She sighed beneath him, soft and pretty, as he pulled the slip down over her breasts, the elasticized fabric catching on the underside. He drew one rigid peak between his lips, feeling each pull in the small of his back, the muscles of his thighs, and—of course—between his legs. He'd not thought to put on any of Mamère's albums, but Stephanie's sweet, tender moans mixed with the night sounds of the bayou beyond the window to provide the perfect music.

  His kisses trailed down over her smooth stomach through the slip, past the shadow of her belly button, until he was pushing the fabric up over her thighs to her waist to bestow a firm, nipping kiss to the front of her new panties. He drew back, casting a wicked grin. "Pretty, chère."

  She returned the sexy smile. "Happy with your selection, hmm?"

  He replied with a slow nod. "Very." Then he whispered, "Roll over."

  Slowly, she complied, drawing her knees up under her. Despite the heat, he shivered at the sight. Crazy, he knew—he'd seen women in thongs before. But this was Stephanie, his Stephanie, who'd loosed her inner desires for him, who'd turned his dreams to reality. Steep arousal drew his hands to her bottom to mold the round flesh— before he reached for the strip of lace above, easing it down until the thong dropped past her thighs. "Please," she whimpered.

  Her need thrilled him. "Please what, beb? Tell me what you want."

  "I want you inside me."

  His need went as thick as the bayou heat. He bestowed one gentle kiss to the small of her back before easing into her. "How's that?" he asked, sliding deeper.

  "Mmm, yes, perfect," she said through breathy sighs.

  Within seconds, he was driving into her with an uncontrolled heat, and she met each stroke in that perfect rhythm, so ancient and impossible to improve upon—and no, this was the most amazing sex he'd ever experienced.

  No, every union with Stephanie was amazing, equally amazing, impossibly amazing.

  "Mon Dieu," he breathed helplessly—that quickly pushed over the edge of desire. And then the pleasure swept him away, up to the sky, down to the bottom of the deepest ocean. It made him think of the dream where he saw everything, every color, every world—and it was all about Stephanie. He rode out the pulses inside her until he slowly came back to himself, back to the bed, back to the woman who'd somehow started filling his world without him ever knowing it, and now she was almost all he knew.

  He collapsed softly atop her, managing to lower an exhausted kiss to her neck. "I'm sorry, beb" he whispered.

  "Sorry?" She sounded truly puzzled.

  He couldn't help letting out a small laugh. Nice thing about a woman not real experienced at passion—she didn't realize he should have been able to give her a lot more. "Sorry I finished so fast." He stroked a hand through her hair, bent to nip at her earlobe. "I wanted to go all night in you."

  She rolled from beneath him until they lay in a loose embrace, her body still sheathed in the clingy slip, stretched in beautiful, wild disarray across her skin. "I don't think I could take that all night, Jake."

  Her smile warmed him, made him try to stay awake through the lethargy that came after climax. "Still, I wanted to give you more. I didn't even make you come."

  She shook her head. "I don't think it's always about that for me. Remember when you told me your favorite part was the connection? Well, I think that's my favorite part, too. With or without an orgasm. I love the way you feel in me."

  He buried his face against her shoulder and drank in her scent—something soft and flowery, remnants of the day's perfume. "I love bein' inside you, too." He lowered a kiss to her neck, but suffered a strange, soft wrench of his stomach. Had he just said too much? Almost too much?

  He shut up, went quiet, just anchored his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and let the lure of sleep take him before he could worry anymore.

  When Stephanie awoke, the lights were out, but the digital clock next to the bed said it was after three. The bed beside her was empty, yet the lulling sounds of insects reminded her Jake was probably out on the dock. She'd known instinctively from the first time she'd found him here that the bayou called to him in some way she'd probably never quite be able to fully understand.

  Glancing down as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the hem of her sexy nightie hovering at her hips and remembered the hot abandon of their sex, how it had at once been so easy—easy to want to do everything with him—and at the same time so intense. Each time she made love with Jake, the heat between them ratcheted up a notch. Her body warmed at the memory as she lay back against the pillow and smiled. If only everything in life was as easy as Jake made sex for her.

  Sitting up on the side of the bed, she pulled down her negligee, then padded across the hardwood floor and over the last remains of old linoleum in the kitchen until she was quietly opening the door, stepping outside. Jake sat on the glider in black boxer briefs, looking like every woman's fantasy. But her reality. "Hey," she said.

  He raised his gaze, then dropped it to her nightie with a sensual smile. "You runnin' around without panties again, chère?'

  "What can I say? You bring out the wild woman in me.

  He patted the seat next to him and said, "I know I do. Come here."

  She joined him, curling one leg comfortably beneath her, and he put his arm around her, drawing her in for a warm, openmouthed kiss. "Mmm, still minty."

  "You too."

  He drew back slightly to look at her. "I wonder what Mrs. Lindman would think if she could see you now— runnin' around with barely anything on out on the bayou."

  She laughed. "I also wonder what she would think if she realized I didn't sleep in my room every night."

  "Like I said before, I think she'd just be a little bit jealous."

  "If she saw you, definitely."

  He grinned. "You think I could turn Mrs. Lindman on, huh?"

  "I think you could turn any girl on."

  He leaned in, bringing their faces close. "Lucky for you, you're the only girl I'm wantin' to turn on, chère."

  She kissed him again and it set her skin to tingling the same as if she were sixteen and on her first date. "Speaking of the barely-anything-I'm-wearing," she said, "did you give Shondra her clothes?"

  He nodded, a slow smile reshaping his stubbled face. "She loved 'em."

  Her heart warmed. "Really? Did they fit?"

  "She hadn't tried 'em on yet when I left, but she thought they would. And if not. .. maybe you'll go with us? To trade 'em in?"

  As before, the invitation touched her. "Yeah, sure, of course."

  When they went quiet, Stephanie listened to the chirps and coos and calls around them, and found herself trying to pick out the individual noises that made up the cacophony of sound. The moon tossed a thin ribbon of light across the water, and the gnarled trees draped with Spani
sh moss were only dark shapes, sentinels that made the space feel unduly private, protected. "Tony told me you come here to be alone."

  He looked down at her, his arm still wrapped around her. "Yeah. Mostly."

  "It made me think twice about coming." She knew they'd had stupendous sex just an hour ago, but she still worried she was intruding somehow.

  "Well... maybe I don't want to be alone as much as usual lately."

  "Can I take that as a compliment?"

  He pressed his forehead to hers and answered low. "Yes, beb. You can."

  "Why are you rebuilding things? To have a better place to be alone?" She'd asked him about it before, but now had a feeling there was more to it.

  He peered out over the black water. "Somethin' like that, maybe. Had this idea that someday I'd come out here to stay. That I'd have enough money to live a simple life here, just doin' a little fishin' to get by, or trappin' crawfish."

  "You don't like living in the city?"

  He glanced down at her. "Don't mind it so much lately, I guess. Minded it after Becky, though. Just couldn't see much there but trouble, and would've come out here permanently then if I'd had enough money. As it is, I make a lot for a guy who doesn't work much, and I don't spend most of it, except what I've put in to fixin' this place up. With an eye toward livin' here sometime down the road, like I said, and also ... 'cause it's Mamère's place. I just didn't want to see it fall apart. I feel her when I'm here, you know?"

  She nodded, and leaned closer into him. Looked up into his eyes and hoped he saw the want in hers. His slow kiss said he did. "Come here," he whispered for the second time in a few minutes, but this time he pulled her up into his lap. She shifted to straddle him for a series of deep, open-mouthed kisses, their tongues colliding soft and sweet.

  As one of his hands curled around her bottom, the other worked in tandem with his teeth, lowering her negligee over her breasts again. "You know what I like about this nightie?" he breathed, his voice hot as the night. "I can get to all your good parts without you even takin' it off."

  She giggled, shimmying her breasts lightly. "Are you saying these are my only good parts?"

  Instead of laughing with her, he flashed a sexy-as-sin look and dragged his hands over her waist, hips, thighs, and slowly up her arms, onto her shoulders ... neck... face. "Every single part of you is incredible, beb" he whispered. Only then did he chuckle softly and let his hands ease down to the sides of her breasts. "But I'd be lyin' if I said these weren't among my favorites."

  He gazed up at her as he flicked the tip of his tongue across one turgid nipple, sending a bolt of pleasure and need straight to the juncture of her thighs. As he kissed her aching breasts, her hands sank between them, reaching to free him from the barrier that separated them. Their foreheads touched as she lowered herself onto him, their bodies meeting with slick ease, their ragged breathing seeming to drown out the bayou sounds.

  He ran his thumb across her lower lip, his eyes riveted on her half-open mouth before he kissed her, the connection seeming as intimate and complete as their union below. As his kisses sank back to her breasts, turning their crests visibly wet beneath the moonlight, he said, "Sex might not always be about comin' for you, beb, but this time it is."

  "How can you tell?"

  He met her gaze, his dark eyes heavy-lidded with passion. "The way you move on me. I can feel you settin' the pace, pickin' the rhythm, makin' it happen."

  He was right. She was only amazed that he could feel the subtle difference of the way she brought their bodies together, that sensual grind that was indeed lifting her to new heights.

  She thrust harder, felt him deeper, moved closer to that delectable precipice that meant ecstasy was a heartbeat away. Old words from the past came echoing back. Let me have you. Well, she was letting him now. Giving him every ounce of her. This, she thought, was dirty dancing. The dirtiest, sexiest dance two people could do. Except that nothing with Jake was dirty. Nothing.

  The climax ripped through her hot and merciless, a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, a jagged ride that made her cling to him tight, made her breath tremble as she moaned—until she drooped limp and listless in his arms.

  She bent her head to his shoulder. Felt his hands resting at her hips and his breath in her ear. "Are you okay, beb?"

  "Mmm," she said. It was all she could muster for a moment. "That was just... intense."

  "I know," he replied, "and if I move a muscle, I'll come, too."

  She wanted that more than anything else. "Oh, come in me.

  "Ça c'est bon," he murmured just before thrusting deep inside her, nearly lifting her from his lap, a huge groan rising from within. She watched his eyes shut, watched his face clench, and reveled in making it happen.

  "Ça c'est bon," he said again, more quietly now, going still, touching his forehead to hers. "So good."

  His eyes stayed closed, so she knew he couldn't see her smile, but she'd gotten what she'd wanted when she'd decided to venture out to the bayou tonight. She'd simply longed to make him happy. And she couldn't fathom feeling more for someone than she felt for Jake right now.

  The next morning, Jake eased out of bed without waking Stephanie, pulled on his jeans, and made his way to the kitchen.

  Given that the house wasn't in any pizza delivery zones and that a quickie mart didn't lie a block away, he'd been forced to keep more food in than he did at home, so he nosed around for some breakfast.

  Cracking some eggs into a bowl, he sniffed at a milk jug, decided it was still good, and poured some in. Firing up his grandmother's old gas stove, he set one of her well-used frying pans on top and emptied in some frozen sausage links he'd found in the freezer. Heating another skillet, he poured in the egg mixture and stirred to make them fluffy. Odd, just standing there at the stove for the first time in a while made him think maybe he'd whip up one of Manière's specialties for Stephanie sometime soon, some shrimp gumbo or jambalaya.

  "Mmm, breakfast."

  He looked up to see a sleepy, tousled woman standing in the doorway in his T-shirt. He couldn't help liking when she did that—reached for his clothes to put on instead of hers—and at the moment, he didn't think he'd ever seen her look more beautiful. "Mmm is right," he said, arching one eyebrow.

  Over breakfast at the old Formica table, they talked— about easy things: the bayou, the house, the condo she owned in Chicago, the job she was growing bored with. And about harder things: his worry over Shondra, hers over Tina.

  He explained that homeless kids in New Orleans were screwed because they couldn't get a job without a birth certificate. But if Shondra found work, he was hoping to pull some strings among his connections to get what she needed.

  He also broke down and told her about the last guy

  Tony talked to who thought he might have seen Tina, but cautioned her she shouldn't get too excited. She told him her escort connection, Melody, had given her a list of places to check in the CBD and he promised he'd get them from her as soon as they headed back to the city. He'd planned to stay out here a couple of nights, but now he figured he'd follow her back today. The worry in her eyes when they discussed Tina dug into his heart, and wanting to make her smile, he promised her apple pie when they returned to the Quarter.

  After they ate, Stephanie insisted on cleaning up— saying it was only fair since he'd cooked. He made the bed, then stepped out onto the dock to soak in the calm of the bayou before the sun rose too high and hot overhead.

  A few minutes later, the door opened and she stepped out, still in his tee. He shook a teasing finger at her. "I've got a feelin' you're traipsin' around without underwear again, young lady."

  "Guilty as charged, officer."

  He grinned. 'Take the shirt off and show me."

  Her eyes flew wide. "What?"

  "Take it off. I want to see you by the light of day,

  chère."

  "It's the light of day that makes it a little more difficult."

  "Nobody out here
but me and Mr. Cocodrie. And he won't tell." He winked.

  She looked around, out over the water. "What if a boat comes by?"

  He shrugged. "Possible, but not likely."

  She stood in place, her eyes twinkling with temptation, but didn't move.

  He flashed his most persuasive smile. "Where's my wild woman? Where's my animal?"

  She glanced down at herself. "Under the shirt."

  He let his smile fade. "Take it off."

  He watched his wild Miss Stephanie send a long glance up and down the bayou, then turn her gaze back on him before she pulled the tee off over her head. Just like last night, he felt sucked into a dream—his mystery woman in the bayou. Only then he couldn't see her. Now he could.

  "Come here, chère. I've got somethin' for ya."

  She moved on long, lithe legs until she stood in front of him. "What's that?" she whispered.

  He answered by drawing her onto the glider to straddle him, but this time he urged her up onto her knees and he sank down in the seat to make wild, hungry love to her with his mouth.

  Soon enough, he was telling her he had something else for her, down lower, and she descended eagerly onto his stiffness, leaving him to revel in her rhythmic movements, in her naked beauty, in everything about her, everything she became in his arms.

  This was the woman he dreamed about. This was the woman who'd come into Sophia's looking ready to seduce. This wasn't the Stephanie who wanted but pulled away, who yearned but turned afraid. He hoped never to see that woman again. This was the woman he wanted to keep.

  Hot, breathy whimpers sounded above him, and everything ceased to exist but his dream girl and the bayou. Home. He was home. With Stephanie. She came with long, beautiful moans, then sank slowly into his arms, her soft breasts pressing against his chest, her lips against his mouth. "God, I love you," she breathed.