Bungalow Nights(31)

“Frankly, now that I think of it, he probably wasn’t any more experienced than me. He’d moved around a lot, too, which cuts down on a person’s ability to get close to others. But I figured, as another army brat, that meant he wouldn’t become too attached to me.”

Good God, Vance thought again.

“Now you,” Layla said.

“Me...what?”

“Your first,” she said, sounding disgruntled. “I shared. Isn’t that what boyfriends and girlfriends do?”

Ignoring the boyfriends and girlfriends remark, he forced his mind away from Layla’s story and thought back. His first? “It wasn’t nearly as well planned as you’re describing, that’s for sure.”

“No?”

“It was more...impetuous. I had a rubber, mind you, and managed to remember to roll it on, but I’d had months of fooling around with Marianne Kelly before we did the deed when we were sixteen.”

With a little smile, he lay back on the blanket to stare up at that star-studded sky. Layla was hovering over him, her features obscured by the darkness. “Maybe that’s where I went wrong,” she said, a mournful note in her voice. Then she positioned herself beside him, her head pillowed by one arm, her shoulder brushing his. “No fooling around before doing the deed.”

Vance could guarantee it. Still smiling, he thought of those heady hours with his high school girlfriend. No empty houses, no satiny nightgowns, no cold-blooded arrangements. “We snatched time together wherever we could. In the front seat of my first car. On the couch at her house, with her parents just a room away. She even braved the avocado grove once.”

“No,” Layla said, clearly disbelieving. “No girl gets naked when there’re spiders around.”

He clucked his tongue. “Layla, Layla, Layla. There’s fun to be had over clothes. Or by sneaking a hand under them.”

They were lying so close and it was so quiet that he heard her breath catch. His body went on sudden alert as she shivered. He rolled his head toward her. “Cold?” he asked, his voice low.

She shivered again. “A little.”

He reached for the second blanket that was puddled near their feet and pulled it upward, over their bodies. As he drew it toward Layla’s chin, the side of his pinkie brushed her breast. She twitched, and her breath hiccupped again.

Vance’s hand stilled. A breeze found the back of his neck but it was nothing against the new heat pouring through his body. He should stand up now, he thought. It might be a little awkward with the sudden stiffness poking at the placket of his jeans, but the two of them should probably leave here, where they felt as though they were the only two people in the world. Return to Beach House No. 9...

Where, since Addy was out for the evening, they’d be the only two people within the four walls.

Still, maybe between the cliff top and the confines of the house, he’d manage to corral this irrepressible lust, this shouting, insistent, reckless need to touch her, kiss her, teach her what he knew.

Hell! His good sense knew he couldn’t afford that complication.

But then Layla made the internal argument moot.

Her fingers found his. Not to brush them away, but to press them to the sweet, swelling mound of her breast. Sweet Christ. Four days of avoidance, four days of good intentions and four days hoping to cool the smoldering tension disappeared in a burst of steam.

With a groan, he surrendered to the goodness of her under his hand. He rolled to his side, ignoring the awkwardness of the forearm cast between them, and fastened his mouth to hers. She opened instantly, and he painted the inner surface of that heavy upper lip with his tongue. Her body arched, and the stiff jut of her hard nipple was evident under her shirt and bra. He circled it with two fingertips as he kissed her more deeply, plunging now, driving into the wet heat.

She angled toward his body, offering herself to him. His lips drew away from her and traveled across her cheek, finding the hollow behind her ear. He was breathing heavily and when he touched his tongue there, he could feel her reaction to his hot breath. Her skin rose in goose bumps and he roamed over them, wetting them.

“There’s fun to be had over clothes,” he murmured again. “Or by sneaking a hand under them.” Then he slid his hand from her breast and burrowed it beneath the hem of her shirt.

She jerked as his touch found the bare flesh of her midriff. Her head twisted, her mouth seeking his. Her kiss was desperate, full of gratifying need, as he finger-walked up her ribs. One of his knuckles touched the underside of her breast and they both moaned.

Her bra was of a thin, stretchy material. He skated across it until he found the upper edge. Then, in a quick yank, he pulled the fabric beneath the plump rise. Layla stilled, and then she arched toward him, sucking on his tongue when he thrust it inside her mouth.

Her intense, instant reaction was heady stuff. He loved the way she clutched his shoulders, the bite of her nails testament to her need. He thumbed the bare nipple, then gently pinched it between two knuckles. Layla’s legs moved, restless, and he threw his top thigh over them, making her his captive. She moaned, her body thrashing a little as if to test the bond, but he didn’t give way.

The restraint seemed to accelerate her desire. Little sounds came from deep in her throat, short moans that were their own demand. Vance knew she wasn’t going with any plan right now, wasn’t thinking of tactics or strategy; she was moving on impulse, letting her yearning build to a heedless pace, finding the power in being passionate. Impetuous.

Like he had been for so long, Vance thought. And it wasn’t always bad, was it? But he was in control now, fascinated, and also committed to nurturing the craving he felt in the thrumming quiver of her lovely body.

“Vance,” she moaned, then bit at his lower lip as if she couldn’t help herself. “Oh, God.”

He damned the awkward arm cast. There were so many places he wanted to touch her! Pushing her flat to her back again, he shifted under the blanket, then stopped teasing her breast to raise the hem of her shirt. His mouth found the naked nipple and he licked it, reveling in her husky groan.

The vibrations of it went through his fingertips as he insinuated them beneath the waistband of her sweats. Her stomach muscles jittered at his touch and she went still again. Vance jerked his mouth from her, needing to suck in some harsh breaths as he found the elastic band of her panties, riding low on her hips.

“Oh, God,” Layla said again, lifting into his touch.

He allowed her to part her legs, and then he pressed the weight of his thigh back across them. She stilled again, and he could sense the need building inside of her. “That’s right,” he whispered against her breast. “Let me touch you. Let me make it good.”

Complications. The word whispered through his mind, but he pushed it away. This was simple. So simple. Her heated skin beneath his fingers, against his tongue. Her desire, which she’d tried to experience through agendas and arrangements, under his control now. He teased it, stoked it, blowing on the flame to create the fire that would sweep over her.

It was a...a kindness. Not a complication.

His tongue curled around her nipple as his fingertips slid beneath her panties. He parted her for his sure touch, stroking into the soft, layered petals. She moaned when he discovered her wetness. He reveled in it, his heart pounding hard and fast, his fingertips drenched in her liquid heat. Driven himself now, he yanked his hand from beneath her sweatpants and took it to his mouth, tasting her essence.

She made an urgent, almost panicked noise.

“Shh,” he soothed, then swiped his tongue against his fingertips once more. He shifted to kiss her again, sharing the flavor of her need. She went a little wild, her body arching high, and he pressed his thigh more firmly against her twitching legs. That urgent noise came from her throat again, muffled now by his mouth, and he took the hint, sliding his hand low again, against her belly, under her panties, to the knot of nerves at the apex of her sex.

He rubbed there, circled, toyed, tapped. Then rubbed again.

And she went wild.

It was a beautiful thing, all he’d wanted for the woman who’d never fooled around. Who had efficiently sought out sex without being driven by the hot-blooded need to climax. He took her orgasmic cries into his mouth as her body shook against his.

He gentled his kiss and his touch as she calmed. Her breathing slowed and her lashes swept up, her gaze on his face. They looked at each other, and reality whomped Vance on the side of the head.

Oh, hell. With a silent groan and an aching body, he rolled to his back beside her, no longer touching her. What a way to lose his head!

She was so sweet and tempting and desirable and...

He gritted his teeth. And off-limits.

Layla cleared her throat, a nervous sound. “Um, hey. Do you... Don’t you...” Her fingers brushed his arm. “We can—”

“No,” Vance said. “I— No.”

“But—”

“It just seems smarter to keep it simpler, don’t you think?”