Sweetest Risk Page 5

  His fingers curl underneath my shirt tracing against my naked skin until he hits the barrier of my bra. I moan, moving a finger through his belt buckle and pulling him closer, wanting so much more.

  It’s fast. Faster than it should be. I count off the days and the number of dates as fast as possible. Does this count as three? Will he think less of me if it isn’t?

  His attention falls to my neck and Graham lazily dots my collarbone with kisses. “We don’t need to do anything more,” he says between each peck. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  “I’m comfortable.”

  He rests in his forehead against mine, his eyes searching deep into my soul for acceptance. “Thank fuck.”

  After that it’s nothing but a fumble of hands and loosening clothes. My shirt comes off, thrown behind us, and is lost somewhere in the room followed by my bra.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says as he stares at my naked chest.

  I drink up his words as if they’re the sweetest wine available. I can’t remember the last time — if there ever has been one — when a man called me beautiful. From the look in his eyes as his gaze languishes over me hungrily, I believe each and every one. These aren’t false words said to loosen me up. They’re whispered against my lips — a truth shared only between us. I’ve never actually had sex after a few dates. In the past it’s always been with a man after we’ve established a firm relationship. I know less about Graham than I do some of my favorite TV stars, but it won’t deter me tonight.

  I want him to take me. For the first time in my life I haven’t sat down and figured out what we mean to each other, where our futures are going before sealing the deal. It’s freeing and also scary as hell, but I want it.

  “I want you, Tara,” his words are already apparent when my open palm sneaks against the front of his pants, finding a waiting bulge. “I like you, but I don’t want to mess up whatever we're doing here by moving too fast.”

  Our eyes lock on one another. I smile and swallow, recognizing what my agreement means. “You won’t mess anything up.” No matter how this ends between us, I’ll have no guilt.

  He slips his hand under the elastic of my pajama pants as soon as I finish my sentence. His fingers slide lower, searching out a hidden area already pooling with wetness. Each of his touches heat my body, building anticipation.

  One single but sure finger circles my opening tapping my clit as it passes. My hips jerk toward him trying to get closer. Then Graham goes to his knees. He unexpectedly undoes his pants and kicks them to the floor before gruffly grabbing the tops of mine and pulling them and my underwear off my legs in a fluid movement. I kick, trying to help them once he reaches my ankles.

  I’m lain out before him, naked, but barer than only my skin. Emotions fill the room as I wait to see what his final assessment will determine. Graham licks his lips and moans, trailing a finger in a circle around my belly button and then lower. His eyes stop and feast on my core.

  I let his eyes graze when in the past I never would’ve laid myself out this way. Allowing judgment to pass over each of my bones, flesh, and soul. I’d shy away and cover myself with the covers, but I don’t do that for Graham. I want him to see all of me. To accept all of me.

  The black shirt stretched tightly over his muscles blocks the view of what would otherwise be an extremely impressive chest. I tug at it, breaking his concentration until he twists the shirt up over his shoulders tossing it somewhere near mine on the floor.

  Graham parts my legs settling between them and I tense. “I just want a taste.”

  I nod, giving him permission, but not able to look away. Then with my legs spread wide, lying on the top of his hotel bed in a room where he found me snooping through his things, Graham feasts on me as if he hasn’t eaten in a week.

  His tongue trails up half along my outer rim while his fingers plunge deeply. At unexpected times, he stops to place a kiss along my lower lips before sucking again. I moan and groan, my back arching closer and my hips wiggling toward his face. His taste is no longer a sample but a three-course meal.

  The bundle of nerves that has given me so much happiness in the past coils tightly but refuses to let loose. My body is begging to keep the release, hold on until the last possible minute.

  Graham growls, and it’s more than I can handle. My orgasm tears through my restraint, my body so tight I clench my teeth to keep from yelling as the energy rushes from me.

  When I come back down, I lay still on the bed, my deep breath pulled in and out of me by force. Holy shit. There’s no way anything in life can top what I experienced.

  Not one to give up without trying, Graham covers himself with a magically appearing condom as I peek through the slits in my eyes.

  He wraps my legs around his waist, pulling me closer and closer until the tip of him nudges at my entrance. My skin is warm and tingles. It’s too much, the emotions and sensations overwhelming so soon after my release. I almost call out and ask him to stop, but he pushes through, stretching me. With each inch of me he claims, I fall more and more under his spell.

  He doesn’t move until we’re connected completely and then it’s slow. An easy in and out pace I fall into step with on my own.

  “You taste like honey and feel like silk. I could do this all night.” His words are slow as he takes the time to pronounce each one in between our matching movements.

  I murmur a quiet yes, but even as I do my body readies for another release — something I didn’t think possible. It grows little by little until I can’t ignore it anymore and my fingers dig into the skin on his shoulders where I grip for stability.

  He must notice because he grins and his thrusts come a little harder, the pace a little faster. A bead of sweat trickles from the top of his forehead down his face and lands on my breast. His head lowers, and he laps it up taking my nipple in his mouth at the same time.

  He’s everywhere and nowhere. His body on top of mine feels like the safety of my own shelter. A warm comforting area I never want to leave, but the end is coming near.

  “Faster,” I pant arching my back and giving him more access to my body.

  His hands cup my ass, pulling me higher so that our connection is perfect. Less than a minute later my back arches high. This time when the release hits me I can’t control my sounds and a throaty moan escapes as I push my head into the pillow.

  He calls out my name, finding his own release seconds later. He rests his forehead against mine, his cock jerking inside my body as the two of us share the air between us. I smile and he follows, rubbing that same thumb against my cheek again.

  Slowly he slips out, depositing the condom in the trash across the room. Then as I’m about to slink my way out of bed and find my clothes to return to my own room, Graham wraps his arms around my body and settles us beneath the rumpled covers.

  “Stay,” he whispers in my ear.

  Too tired to respond, I nod and snuggle into his body. Our movie plays on the TV, and a man screams while being eaten on a toilet.

  8

  “Are you sure you want to meet my friends?” Graham runs his fingers through his dark hair smoothing it back.

  I nod like a fool caught up in his spell. I’ve never met a man who can make such a simple action so overwhelmingly intimate.

  “Yup.” As if I’d say anything else.

  He gives me one last look, waiting for me to change my mind, and when I don’t, we walk through the big doors of the bed-and-breakfast out into the cold afternoon. Before we cross over the covered patio, he takes my hand into his. Our arms swing together back and forth as we walk.

  Normally, I want to stay inside and avoid the cold as much as possible, even on a rare afternoon off, but the last few days I’ve ventured out to spend time with Graham. You would think your body would get used to the sudden drop in temperature, your skin hardened against the bite of the cold wind. But it doesn’t. The air is as frigid for me today as it was yesterday. Possibly even colder. My skin still hurts
and with each breath it feels as if my lungs are freezing, the water molecules crystallizing.

  It’s a macabre thought pattern and I don’t keep it for long before we turn into the warm, well-lit, happy sight of the bakery.

  The lights in the building cast away the gray skies we walked through to get here. It’s warm even though the fireplace is a fake. As usual the bakery smells like cooking sugar and cinnamon, like all those childhood Christmas memories from growing up. It’s better than any candle.

  The bell above the door dings and everyone in the place turns to look at us. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if they all took the quick glance you do when someone walks in. Instead they continue to stare. That is until Graham scans his head giving each of them a silent look as they bow their heads and go back to their business.

  It’s unsettling as if there’s some kind of secret bakery cult I haven’t been initiated into yet. I’m on the outside looking in at everybody else. It’s the ongoing story of my life.

  A brown-haired woman behind the counter wearing the typical bright pink apron smiles widely while staring at the two of us. I try and shake off Graham’s hand but he won’t let me.

  “The guys are in the back,” she says using her thumb to point at two swinging metal doors.

  “Thanks, Tabitha.” Graham releases my hand and places a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right back. Take a seat and get comfortable.”

  He slips behind the counter and pushes open one of the metal doors before I have a chance to move. “Whatever she wants, it’s on me,” he yells before the door swings shut behind him. My tummy twists with the thought he’s left me to the wolves. Bright pink feisty wolves.

  A woman as tall as the first but strikingly different in features steps out from the back kitchen on the other side of the swinging doors. “I’m Anessa,” she says.

  I nod, already knowing her name. More than one guest of the bed-and-breakfast has commented about the woman who owns the bakery. It’s not all good. But she seems friendly and her eyes sparkle, her smile not quite as large as her friend’s.

  “Well you heard the man, Tara, the case is yours.” She flings out her hand in front of the display case and I take the opportunity to focus on something sweet rather than the questions they must have about Graham and me together. It seems as if they’re waiting for the right millisecond to shout questions at me and expect truthful answers. Like my own firing squad, except rather than using bullets, it’ll be pinpointed questions.

  I can’t figure out what the big deal is, anyway. I get he hasn’t been here a horribly long period of time, but is it weird to see him with a woman? Is he married? Did they meet his wife yesterday? My face pales. What if that is the problem?

  “Um, just something chocolate like a brownie,” I say stumbling to a seat at the window and questioning everything I know about the man I shared a bed with a night ago.

  Anessa brings a tiny plate and fork to the table where I sat and puts it down as if she can sense something has changed about my demeanor. She steps back and waits.

  When another second passes and I don’t take a bite of the brownie, she finally asks. “Okay, what’s your story?”

  My head pops up. “What?” My story? Is she asking why I would sleep with a married man? Because one — there’s girl code to follow. We have to stick together. If I accidentally stumbled upon this kind of situation, it would kill me. I’d never be the other woman.

  But even as my head grapples with the thought, my heart refuses to accept it. There’s no way Graham — the man who swept me off my feet the last few days — is capable something like that. Not him and not now. I can’t put my finger on what it is or even give a name, but his character is too strong.

  Tabitha leans against the lower part of the counter next to the register. “Mobsters looking for you? Found a large stash of mysterious money? Ex-boyfriend hunting you down?” The questions are short and peppered together just as I feared.

  I shake my head no. “No.” Who has problems like mobsters and exes? Although a stash of money sounds good. I’m not sure how that would be an issue.

  Tabitha’s eyes narrow. “Why are you with Graham? Where did you two meet?”

  I swallow hard and cut into the brownie with my fork. “I work at the bed-and-breakfast.”

  Anessa steps back, not turning around, as if she’s trying to read the honesty of my answers. “So, he’s not saving you from anything?”

  “No… not that I’m aware of.”

  “Because if he is, you can tell us. None of us are connected to the phone tree.” She points between her and Anessa.

  “I promise we met at the bed-and-breakfast.”

  The two of them share a look and somebody whispers the word “interesting.” It’s loud enough to hear but soft enough that I can’t pinpoint which woman it came from.

  “What will you do when he leaves?” Tabitha asks still leaning across the counter.

  What will I do when he goes? “I… don’t know.”

  Anessa hits Tabitha on the shoulder, silently telling her to shut up.

  “We haven’t discussed it.” I know he’s going to leave. He can’t live in the hotel forever, but we haven’t hit that part of our relationship where we are discussing our future plans.

  Anessa shrugs. “Ridge could ask him to stay.”

  It’s a simple enough suggestion, and for a beat my heart takes up the lie myself. What if Ridge did ask him to say?

  But the thought is quickly wiped away from the look Tabitha works hard to disguise but totally sucks at managing.

  “What?” I ask.

  Nobody answers.

  Finally, Anessa taps Tabitha. “Just tell her something if you know. Girl deserves an answer.”

  I smile even knowing I won’t like what Tabitha has to say. I’ve only known Anessa for a few minutes and she’s already using girl code.

  Tabitha steps back, no longer leaning against the counter. “Ridge has asked him to stay. A few times.”

  That’s not good. How many times is “a few times”? And what were his answers? And was this before or after we officially met one another? All of those are important details. Each one could spell success or doom for me in our relationship. Not that we have a relationship. But here at the bakery listening to two girls talk about Ridge’s ever-expanding force, I find myself imagining what it would be like if he did stay.

  Would he continue to live at the bed-and-breakfast? Would we date? Would I find out he doesn’t like Beyoncé music and then have to break up with him? Can I love Graham even if he doesn’t like Beyoncé?

  I shake my head clearing the thought. I can’t even consider the word love? We’ve known each other for like two hot minutes. We’ve only slept together twice. It was the hottest sex of my life, but what if it was a fluke?

  “Well if he does go back to the Southwest, there are lots of hotels on the coast. You can find yourself a job at a spa. Maybe the mountains.” They both nod as though envisioning how wonderful place like that would be.

  The images of following him to the mountains or warm beach don’t bring me thoughts of peace, more like panic. I’ve never followed a man so far away. But he’s told me himself it’s normally where he works. You don’t have a long-distance relationship with someone after knowing them such a short time. I could never get enough time off to fly out and see him, and I can’t expect him to make the trip to see me continuously.

  It’s looking more and more like whatever the two of us have shared will end sooner rather than later. It’s a sobering thought. I pile a big chunk of brownie into my mouth to mask the bitter taste of truth on my tongue.

  “Think of all the free treatment you could get if you worked at the right spa,” Tabitha’s says longingly.

  “It’s too soon for moving,” I counter when I finish chewing.

  Tabitha laughs as if that’s the funniest thing she’s heard the entire year. Since it’s the middle of December, a year must be pretty darn boring.

&nbs
p; “It’s never too soon for one of the hot guys.” Anessa joins in laughing, the two of them shaking their heads and sharing a private joke.

  The door to the bakery opens, the bells wild with the force. A new woman who acts as if this place is her second home storms in, her face full of emotions. She scans the bakery, her eyes settling on me, and her shoulder tips her head to the side.

  “Tara is with Graham,” Tabitha supplies.

  The new woman nods, accepting the explanation, and then raises an eyebrow my direction. “Dangerous ex-boyfriend?”

  Tabitha shakes her head. “No, she’s normal, Katy.”

  Katy stares at me once again, acting like I’m growing a third arm out of my chest or something. Her mouth opens and with a nod of her head she slowly breezes out the word, “Wow.” Who are these women?

  The other two wear similar expressions as I shove another piece of the brownie into my mouth.

  Katy starts a conversation with the two women behind the counter, her voice ratcheting up with each sentence. The name Pierce is mentioned more than once. The hotter than heck city playboy and multimillionaire — hell, he might be a billionaire by now — is in the bed-and-breakfast more than once a week, but I’ve never seen a woman with him. At least not one under the age of fifty and certainly never this girl.

  Who are these people? Obviously close friends and the owners of the town’s bakery, but they feel like more than that. Almost as if there’s a sisterhood to the group — one that I would long to have a connection with in my own life. My own three best friends to hang out with and dish about boys.

  My introduction to the group is odd, but not unwelcoming. And something tells me the questions are more about the three of them that anything about me.

  9