Playing With Fire. Rebecca Hunter
kind of shit. He was here with her today.
Her skirt was silky, soft under his hands as he slid them down over her ass. She moved her hips against his in slow reminders of how it could be.
Years ago he would have told himself to stay away from the woman who made him want what he could never have. Today he didn’t give a fuck. Today all Simon wanted was one more time. One more chance to bury himself inside her before he said goodbye to his past forever.
Marianna’s smile faded, and she reached up to trace the stubble of his jaw. How had she forgotten the way his beautiful green eyes looked right into her, searching for parts of her that no one else saw? And, God, it felt so good, so right.
Simon blinked, and they stared at each other, frozen somewhere between the past and the present. Then, his fingers flexed against her rear, and he tilted his hips into hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and he did it again. She bit back a moan, but he must have heard it anyway because his smile was full of dark lust.
She let her hand fall from his jaw and twisted in his grip so that he was up against her back, her belly against the counter. His hands slipped over her hips, and he pressed up against her.
“How do you like it now?” he whispered in her ear.
She swallowed. It was better if she wasn’t facing him. She hadn’t been with anyone since the divorce, and this was going to get messy fast if she wasn’t careful. Emotional. She was already reading too much into those glimpses of longing in Simon’s eyes.
She still hadn’t figured out why he had shown up at this house. But maybe she could get to that as they both let their guards down. Sex had a way of doing that. But this wasn’t like their first time, just for fun, to see what was underneath his hard exterior. Now there were so many things she didn’t want to uncover.
Still, she couldn’t deny the dizzying pleasure of finally, finally touching Simon again. After the worst year of her life, she deserved to feel good again for just a little while.
“I like just about everything,” she said, smiling. “That hasn’t changed.”
His hands were skimming over her stomach again, cupping her breasts, and his erection was rock hard against her. Good God. Had that part of him gotten bigger, too?
He reached under her skirt, exploring her thighs, and she opened her legs, wanting more.
“You feel so good, so soft.” His voice was rough in her ear. “You want this nice and slow, or you want this hard?”
The question spread a wave of heat through her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. “Hard.”
His fingers flexed as the word floated out of her mouth. He hissed out a breath, and his hand moved higher, finding the edges of her panties.
“Hard,” he rasped. “That’s exactly what I want right now with you.”
As he spoke those words, he slipped his hand under the lace of her panties and stroked her, dipped his fingers inside her. She moaned and rocked into his hand.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered.
Damn, this would be good. Something about him made her light up. When they had their last fight, he had said something that stuck. A man like him could only have two purposes for a woman like her: to work for her or to fuck her. Not that she believed it, but if that was all he was offering...
“Let’s do this now, Simon,” she said, her voice tight in her throat. Before she looked too closely at what was happening.
His hands disappeared, and there was a rustling behind her. After a moment, he set the condom wrapper on the counter next to her. Then he pulled away.
Marianna gripped the edge of the counter, willing herself not to turn around. Not to watch the look on his face in the intimate, erotic moment when he pulled himself out. Were his fingers trembling as he rolled the condom down his long, hard erection? Did he want her as badly as she wanted him? But she couldn’t make this any more personal.
All thought disappeared the moment he touched her again, coaxing her to bend over farther. They didn’t bother with undressing. He just lifted her skirt up and moved her panties to the side. He slid his erection along her core, back and forth, before he pushed in hard.
She gasped and cried out, and he growled behind her, thrusting again.
“Did you miss my hard cock?”
She gulped in a breath as bolts of white-hot pleasure shot through her body.
“Is this what you missed most?” His voice was heavy in her ear.
She couldn’t answer, but he knew this about her. He could fuck her speechless. Words became impossible when so much want and need spread through her. He was filling her, over and over again, hard and fast, building her up way too soon. She should have known he couldn’t just put aside their past. And neither could she.
Now they were right back where they were eleven years ago, and she didn’t have it in her to stop it. Not right now, when his hot breaths drifted over her neck and his voice rang in her ears. Each thrust took them deeper, closer. He slid his hands down her back, caressing, exploring. His fingers dug into her hips, and she answered him, pushing back against him, meeting each movement, seeking her own pleasure.
Oh, God.
Her knees began to shake, threatening to give out. Her own moans of pleasure were coming louder and faster as she spiraled out of control.
“Yes, Simon.”
Her body exploded in flashes of white heat as those words echoed inside. Yes, Simon. It was too much. She shook and crumbled onto the cool countertop as the waves of ecstasy rushed through her. Simon gave two last hard thrusts and roared out his own pleasure, sending another ripple of bliss through her. His big body shuddered behind her, and he breathed out a string of curse words in Spanish.
She smiled to herself. When she was younger, she got off on making him finish that way. Back then, she didn’t understand much of what he was saying—Spanish was the language her father had refused to teach her in his struggle to distance them both from his Cuban roots. She had fought to learn the language as an adult.
Marianna laid her cheek against the granite, trying to catch her breath. Simon bent over her, his hands on the counter next to hers, his skin hot through his shirt. His breaths brushed over her in heavy pants, and his lips pressed against her shoulder.
All too soon, he pulled out, and the warmth of his body disappeared. She caught a glimpse of him over her shoulder, his face twisted with emotion.
She didn’t want to know what came next. Not yet.
Pulling together her strength, Marianna straightened up and headed for the bathroom. She locked the door, leaned her elbows on the sink and buried her face in her hands. Just breathe. This was about closing the door on a part of her life, not opening it.
Goddamn him. And she still hadn’t figured out why he’d come in the first place. It had to be something about the past. She had never learned exactly what her father had said to him eleven years ago, but whatever it was had made him leave her behind. Her father had simply told her that he had made Simon a financial offer, and he didn’t choose Marianna. No discussion, not then, not ever. She had only seen Simon once after that, and he didn’t deny her father’s version.
That’s one way of saying it was all he had replied, his scowl darkening.
Not an admission, not a denial. But his actions spoke louder: he’d gotten the hell out of Miami.
And now, eleven years later, he just shows up?
Marianna took a deep breath and splashed water over her eyes. Then, slowly, she walked back to the kitchen.
The empty kitchen.
“Simon?”
The words echoed off the floors and the