Still Irresistible. Dawn Atkins
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and blinked, embarrassed.
“Hey…” Deck moved to hug her, keeping the embrace high on their bodies. “I hate to see you in pain.”
“I know.” He had always been there for her. His skin against hers felt so right. She rested her cheek on his chest. It felt so good, as calming as back then.
Just like that, the moment changed. The comfort hug turned into something else, something more intense. Callie became aware of a hitch in Deck’s breathing and her own. His arms around her were strong and sure, his fingers dug in.
She should push back. He should back off. Neither of them moved. She became aware of a tight ache between her legs.
They were inches apart. All either of them had to do was shift slightly forward and they’d be body to body, thigh to thigh, her breasts against his chest, her belly against his erection. It would feel so 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.
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