Playing With Fire. Rebecca Hunter
that they shouldn’t get him hard anymore. But they did. Now, eleven years later, he was in her kitchen, staring at her lips, and his tongue was probably hanging out.
Marianna’s gaze suggested she could see exactly what he was imagining. Her eyes narrowed. “The last time you offered to be there for me, you backed out, remember?”
He leaned closer and touched her chin with his fingers. She shivered as the rough pads of his thumb traced along her jaw. “Don’t pretend it was that simple, Marianna.”
She just shook her head.
He let his fingers slide down her neck.
“Let’s just put those last days aside for now,” he whispered. It was simpler to be in the moment, ignore the complicated past between them—when her father had nearly destroyed his family. When his family had learned just how manipulative Alex Ruiz could be, threatening their livelihood, spreading terrible rumors. Besides, if he’d stayed back then, Simon would have only prolonged the inevitable. As his own father had so bluntly put it, he wasn’t part of the kind of life Marianna would want.
He continued a slow exploration of her skin with his hand. Soft curves and slopes. A crease formed between her eyebrows.
“Why were you waiting outside my house today, Simon?” she whispered. “What do you want from me?”
Wrong time to ask that question. For a few years he had thought he wanted Marianna to suffer for the way she’d looked down at him eleven years ago. But then he’d built a life on wanting nothing, and that faded. Now he had no idea what he was looking for.
No, that wasn’t true. There was one thing Simon was sure he wanted.
Slowly, so slowly that she couldn’t mistake his intentions, he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips brushed against hers, once, twice. His heart raced in his chest. He parted his mouth and tasted her. Salty sweet, like a day on the beach. Fuck, this was really happening. After all these years, he was kissing her again. He sucked her bottom lip, and she let out a little moan. Simon released her lip, and neither of them moved. His breaths were coming fast. He swallowed, holding tight control on his deepest urges to dive in, to take, to have.
Time to decide. Back away, keeping the past in the past? Or just one more little taste of heaven? He’d wait for her answer.
Marianna’s breath was shaky as she pressed her soft lips against his. Goddamn. She was kissing him now. With her warm, wet mouth. He groaned as her hands brushed against his stomach, exploring, finding her way. He slid his tongue in, letting her know just how hungry he was for her. His hands slipped under her shirt, and he was touching her soft skin again, remembering. She came alive under his hands, pressing closer, begging for more. Skimming her hands through his hair, she pulled him closer. After all these years.
He broke off the kiss and pulled away. Marianna’s eyes fluttered open, hazy and surprised. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips, swollen. Damn, he wanted this woman like nothing else right now.
“Do you want to do this one last time?” he asked.
Her eyes flashed with uncertainty. What was she debating? There was nothing uncertain about their kiss, and he was leaving for Sydney early tomorrow. No matter what happened between them, nothing changed.
He brushed her hair off her shoulder and pressed his lips against her bare skin. So goddamn sweet.
“It’ll be hot between us,” he whispered, catching her earlobe between his lips. “You know I can make you feel good.”
Her sigh was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, like she was imagining just how good it would be.
“You know I’ll take care of you.”
She stiffened under his hands.
“Don’t say that,” she said sharply.
Simon froze. He moved back a little and looked down at her, his brow furrowed. He had been talking about her pleasure, but that couldn’t be what she was reacting to. Her mouth was in a tight line, and her eyes held years of unspoken accusations.
He blinked at her, grasping at his thoughts. Simon ran his thumb over her mouth, and her expression softened.
She let out a breath. “Just don’t pretend this is something it’s not.”
“What do you think this is?” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think. His erection throbbed unhelpfully between them, intruding on the conversation. The last thing they should be doing right now was talking.
So he traced a path with his fingers down her neck, down her chest until his hands cupped her breasts. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, and she let out a soft moan.
“Forget that question, Mari,” he said. “Let’s not drag any of our old shit up. I can think of so many better ways to use our time.”
He stroked up and down her sides slowly, his thumbs brushing under her breasts each time. The sharpness in her gaze faded. All the yellows were gone from her eyes, swallowed up in black, leaving only the thin gray-green outlines. He had forgotten the way her eyes changed when she watched him like this.
“One more time,” she said.
His fingers flexed into the curve of her waist, and he bit back the groan stuck in his throat. Yes. This was really going to happen.
She slipped her hands under his shirt again. His stomach muscles quivered as her fingers trailed up his chest, exploring.
“You’ve gotten bigger,” she whispered. “I noticed it before.”
His cock throbbed a response, and Marianna laughed softly. She unbuttoned his jeans and slipped one hand inside, playing with the waistband of his boxers.
“You want to go upstairs?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Right here.”
Simon’s mind flashed to their very first encounter in this kitchen. He squeezed his eyes shut as a bolt of lust shot through him.
She must have gone back to the same moment, too, because she laughed. “You hated me that first day.”
“You were a spoiled little rich girl,” he said, his voice growing huskier. “You lay by your goddamn pool, watching me work in the hot sun for weeks.”
Marianna smiled. “So why did you say yes when I offered you a drink?”
He let out a groan. “Because your eyes said, come in and fuck me.”
“That’s not what my eyes said,” she whispered. “They said, I want to taste you.”
He slipped his hands under her shirt and shuddered. The scent of her, all that warm, soft skin under his fingertips. It was too much to resist, so he let in the memory of that day one more time. Her little bikini had been all strings and scraps of red, and he had followed her inside this house, somewhere between blinding lust and hate. The cool air and the front-row view of her swimsuit would have been enough, but she took it much further than that. His eyes fixed on her, he’d walked to the table and pulled one of her kitchen chairs out to sit facing her. She’d poured him a glass of water and come close, between his legs, reaching across him to set it on the table next to him. Letting her breasts fall right in front of him. Close enough to taste. When she stood up, she didn’t back away.
He could still feel cold water running down his throat as he drank it in one long gulp, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. For weeks he had forced himself not to stare. Now that he could, he took his time, slowly memorizing every curve, every inch of exposed skin, not bothering to hide his erection. Her gaze dropped to his pants, and she smiled. I’m curious, she had said. Two words that changed everything. Then she knelt between his legs, unzipped his pants and gave him the hottest blow job of his life.
“All-time best lunch break,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.
“I bet it was.” She chuckled.
How