Still Irresistible. Dawn Atkins
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good. Like before, but new, too.
She ached to move closer.
“I remember how we were,” Deck said, his voice rough.
They had to stop. This was dangerous.
“Me, too.” She began to tremble. She wanted him so badly. She wanted to see how they would be together—without the grief and the frantic desperation. She’d been a girl, inexperienced in sex. Now she was a woman and knew exactly what to do and what she wanted. “I’d never felt like that before.”
Or since, for that matter. Deck hadn’t been her first, but sex with Taylor had been awkward and fast and all about him. Deck and she had moved together like two halves of a whole.
“We were young,” Deck said, shifting infinitesimally closer. His chest grazed her breasts.
The ache between her legs felt like an injury. She wanted to lunge at him.
“Sex was new.” Deck’s eyes burned at her.
“Does sex ever get old?” Never with Deck. She couldn’t imagine that happening. “It was more than that.” She had to say it. She’d loved his seriousness, his self-confidence. He’d seemed free and brave and adult.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was more.” They were in trouble now, lost in the past, in their soft words, their naked nearness. “Lots more.” With a decisive move, he pulled her against him, let her feel his hardness, took her backside in both his hands.
What are we doing? She couldn’t say the words. She could only melt against him, weak with relief.
Deck’s mouth found hers, his lips warm and giving, his tongue pressing gently, wanting in. She opened to him, welcomed his tongue, the slow slide of his lips on hers. The kiss was like water after a desperate thirst. She couldn’t get enough. She wrapped her arms around him, dug in with her fingers, pushed her own tongue into his mouth, tasting him again, remembering, but discovering, too. They’d been kids.
How had this happened?
It was the champagne, the moonlight, the hot springs and the memories. It was the way he smelled of cedar and sunshine. It was all that they’d meant to each other. And maybe more.
5
DECK WAS FOGGY on exactly how he’d ended up with Callie in his arms, her sweet tongue in hot pursuit of his own, but he wasn’t one bit sorry.
He’d started it, he knew that. He’d meant to comfort her, but the past had come rushing back and they were so close and so naked in the water that he couldn’t stop himself.
He gripped her backside with both hands. She moaned and trembled, wrapping her legs around his waist, locking on with her heels, as if for dear life.
He felt the hot drive to be inside her, making her come, coming himself, and fought to slow down, to manage this rush of need. He felt like a starving man dropped into a banquet.
Callie pulled back and looked at him, panting, her gaze flying across his face. “What are we doing?” She sounded scared.
“Acting crazy,” he said, taking her mouth again.
She pulled away and looked at him, her eyes dazed. “Completely crazy.” She blinked and shook her head, clearly fighting for control. “This would get complicated. We have to work together. Sex can make things weird. Plus…birth control…”
“True.” What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even paused to consider a condom. She was so beautiful, her eyes glittering, wanting him, her lips puffy from his assault. He wanted her so bad. He groaned. He couldn’t help it.
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