Carae's Touch (Long Line of Love, #4) Page 23

  "Sharde?"

  She flashed a quick smile at him. "So when do you want to head out for the cabin?"

  "Did you really think color is an issue with me, Sharde?"

  She saw the concern in his eyes and shook her head. "Not in a bad way, Jeff." She shrugged. "But it would be normal for you to prefer white women."

  "Would it? Have you always dated black men?"

  "Mostly, yes. Although in high school, I had this monumental crush on Ricardo Montalban." She gave a gusty sigh. "The fantasies I created around him would probably have made him blush."

  He smiled. "Since we're sharing secrets, I used to lie awake at night suffering big time lust for Eartha Kitt. I can't tell you how many cold showers I took on her behalf. I always wanted to play Batman to her Catwoman."

  She leaned forward, put her face close to his and purred.

  He smiled, then sighed. "You know, no matter how bad things are you have a way of making them seen better for me. I don't know what I would have done without you at my side these last few years."

  The words, spoken in a low, sincere voice held little comfort. She was long past the point where she wanted to be his rock. Being the woman he turned to when he wanted to get physical was more important to her these days. She suppressed a sigh and pasted a tight smile onto her face. "You'd have been fine. Ben would have seen to that."

  "Benton is the best friend a man could have." He touched her cheek. "But sometimes a man needs or wants a woman's perspective."

  "A woman... that's me," she said softly.

  He nodded. "I know."

  But she doubted that. "We're leaving when?

  "We can go this afternoon. We'll make a long weekend of it and come back Monday night."

  Four days and three nights spent alone with him in a small, remote cabin. She moistened her lips. "It might snow."

  He shrugged. "I'll leave now and get everything we'll need for a few days. All you'll need to do is pack warm clothing and several books. I'll pick you up at your place at three and we'll get there in time for dinner. Okay?"

  That would give her several hours to devise a plan for ending up in his bed before the weekend was over. She nodded. "Okay."

  "Great." He smiled and her heart jumped in her chest. "I'll see you in a few hours."

  "Okay.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, seated in one of the leather chairs in front of Sharde's desk, Darbi studied her face. "You're spending a long weekend with the boss?"

  Noting Darbi's lack of surprise, Sharde sighed. "You don't sound surprised."

  Darbi shrugged. "I can't say I am. I've suspected for some time that there's more than friendship between you two."

  Sharde blinked. "You have? Why?"

  She shrugged. "It has something to do with the way you look at him and the sound of his voice when he's talking to or about you. You look at him like a woman looks at a special lover and his voice always softens when he talks about you."

  Sharde shook her head slowly. She could believe that her feelings for Jefferson were not always concealed, but she'd never noticed any softening of his voice when he spoke to her. "I'm not sure what you are seeing or hearing, but there's nothing between us. We're friends."

  "With benefits?"

  Friends with benefits. That described the only way she'd be interested in remaining friends with him. "No. Just friends."

  "So this weekend... you're hoping to change that?"

  She shrugged. "Do you think it's possible?"

  "I'm surprised it's not already true. The passion simmering just under the surface between you two seems explosive."

  "Don't I wish." She shook her head. "Back to business. You'll be all right until Tuesday?"

  "Of course. What about you? Are you going to be all right on Tuesday?"

  "I'll be fine no matter what the weekend brings or doesn't bring. Either way, it's time I took control of my own happiness again."

  "If you want to talk, call me."

  She shook her head. "This is something I need to work out in my own mind first. But thanks, Darbi."

  Darbi smiled. "That's what friends are for. So I'll see you on Tuesday."

  * * *

  Ninety minutes into the three-hour drive, snow fell hard and heavy, making driving and visibility difficult. Sharde sat in the passenger seat of Jefferson's SUV, praying he wouldn't decide to turn around and head home. No matter what, if they made it to the cabin, she was going to find some way to get him in bed before the weekend was over.

  Five hours after they'd left Philly, he stopped the SUV in front of the cabin. They sat staring through the windshield. Several inches of snow covered the roof and the ground around the modest small cabin. The snow still fell heavily. She squinted. Or was it now sleet?

  He swore softly and reached into the glove compartment for a flashlight. "I'd better go see how things stand. Wait here," he told her and climbed out of the vehicle, leaving the engine running.

  She cast a smile upward, leaned back against her seat, and offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. The weather had done its part, now all she had to do was hers. She closed her eyes, considering strategies for seducing him.

  "Damn!"

  The harsh sound and a cold blast of air snapped Sharde out of her lovely thoughts of nights of lust and unbridled passion spent under Jefferson's big, sweaty, thrusting body.

  Cheeks hot, she opened her eyes. Jefferson slid into the driver's seat.

  "So?"

  "The power is out and it's cold as hell out there and inside. We'll be snowed in if this damn snow doesn't stop soon."

  A feeling of delight danced through her. It was difficult not to laugh out loud or at least grin! She cast a quick glance upwards. Someone up there must think it was time to give her a chance at happiness. Or at least a taste of bliss, Calder style.

  "There's a fireplace in the cabin," she reminded him. She went hot and then cold at the thought of lying naked and aroused in front of a roaring fire with Jefferson lying on top of her, between her legs, loving away all her emotional aches and pains.

  He squinted through the windshield. "Maybe we should go back while we can."

  She fought back panic. "It took five hours to get here. God only knows how long it will take to get back. Why don't we just go inside, start a fire, and get something to eat? I'm tired and hungry." And desperate to be alone and snowbound with you.

  He sighed. "Okay."

  She released her seatbelt and moved to open her door.

  His arm brushed against her breasts as he reached across her to place a hand on hers over the door handle. "It's cold as hell and slippery out there. Stay here while I start a fire and get our stuff inside."

  Very aware of his arm brushing against her body, she turned her head. His gray eyes were inches away. "It will go faster if I help carry our bags inside."

  "Stay inside," he said again, withdrew his arm, and got out.

  Enjoying the warmth of the SUV, she watched him make several trips to the cabin. She had seen how chivalrous he could be when he was in love, but he'd always tended to treat her like an old family friend instead of a woman he wanted or needed to play Sir Galahad with. So he could be a gentleman when it came to her. A smile touched her lips.

  Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the cabin and opened her door. She turned off the engine, removed the keys, and was surprised when he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her down.

  She smiled at him. "Thanks."

  "Be careful," he said and turned away.

  She took a step, her right foot landed on a slick patch of snow and slid out from under her. "Jefferson!"

  He whirled around, slightly off balance, his arm shooting around her waist. "It's all right. I've got you," he said against her forehead.

  Heart hammering, she sighed and leaned against him, laughing weakly. "That was close."

  "Too close. I told you it was slippery as hell out here." He took a step back to balance himself. His foot hit a slick p
atch. He made a small sound of surprise, his arm tightened around her waist, and he lost his balance.

  She tried to steady him, but he was too big and heavy. He fell, taking her with him. He slammed onto the snow with her on top of him. "Damn! What more could possibly go wrong?" he demanded furiously.

  From where Sharde lay, sprawled between his legs, things were perfect. She lifted her head and looked down into his eyes, laughing.

  He frowned. "Exactly what amuses you about our present situation?"

  Her smile widened. "You're awfully cute sprawled in the snow like a six-foot plus snowman."

  His eyes danced with amusement and he laughed. "You're nuts, Sharde."

  "Yes," she admitted, softening her voice. "About you."

  "Same here, toots."

  "No." She touched his face. "I really meant that," she whispered.

  He arched a brow. "So did I. You know I'm nuts about you."

  To her delight, he clamped a hand on the back of her head, brought her mouth down to his, and brushed his lips against hers.

  At least, she later decided he'd only intended to brush his mouth against hers. But not one to waste opportunities, she parted her lips, touched the tip of her tongue to his, and planted a long, moist, hungry kiss against his mouth.

  He stiffened under her, his hands moving up to push against her shoulders.

  Determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity, Sharde pressed closer between his legs, thrusting her groin against his, and deepened the kiss. She greedily sucked his tongue between her lips and into her mouth.

  As he shuddered against her, she kissed him slowly, deeply. She did it repeatedly, tasting the surprising sweetness of his lips and the moist heat of his tongue. She poured all her pent up desire and hunger for him into the demanding kisses, trying to overwhelm his senses. She kept her lips pressed tight and close to his, not giving either of them a chance to take a deep breath between kisses. Within moments, his lips moved against hers and his hands slid from her shoulders to her back to hold her close. Only then did she move her mouth away from his so she could rain a series of warm, nibbling kisses against his face.

  "Jeff..."

  He sucked in a deep, gasping breath. "Sharde! What the hell are you doing?"

  His voice came out brusque and low.

  A smile curved her lips. She finally had his attention. She curled her fingers in his hair and stared down into his eyes. "Thanking you for saving me from a nasty fall."

  "By kissing me until I hardly know who I am?"

  "Hey! Is it my fault you have such sweet, luscious, kissable lips?"

  "What?"

  She bent her head and sensuously outlined his mouth with the tip of her tongue. "Hmmm. Your lips are warm and they taste sweeter than wine. A woman could get a natural high from kissing you alone."

  "Sharde–"

  "Shhh. Talking now is not in my game plan, handsome." She slowly licked his lips before finally pressing a last long kiss against his mouth. "Thank you."

  He stared up at her, his eyes almost black.

  The silence between them stretched on for several moments, during which time neither of them moved. Then, without any warning, he rolled them over. When they came to a stop, she lay on her back in the snow with him between her legs.

  He was aroused. She could feel the unmistakable bulge pressing against her. The breath caught in her throat and her heart hammered so wildly she could barely breathe. With the snowing pelting down, stinging her face, she stared up at him, her lips parted, her arms holding him close.

  "Jeff..." she whispered his name, her voice clearly conveying her raw need. She slid a hand down to cup his buns.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing, Sharde?"

  "Isn't it obvious?"

  His eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his tone shattered any illusions she'd been nursing about him sharing her feelings. "You think I want to play house with you?"

  The anger in his voice cooled her ardor. "You're aroused," she whispered.

  "I'm human, but that doesn't change the fact that you've clearly taken leave of your senses!"

  Her mouth worked, but no words emerged.

  He pulled away and exploded to his feet.

  She lay staring up at him, disappointment and hurt rushing through her. She'd overcome her natural inhibitions and thrown herself at him only to discover he didn't want her. Tears stung her eyes and tightened her throat.

  He reached down, took her hands, and pulled her upright. Without waiting to see if she followed, he turned and made his way to the cabin.

  She brushed the snow off her clothes. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she wrapped her arms around her body. Maybe that would keep the hurt tucked away inside her. If she managed that, she could pretend he hadn't just ripped her heart from her body and tossed it into the snow like so much refuse.

  She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the sky, relishing the sting of sleet striking her skin. He'd made his lack of interest in her ultra clear. Now what was she supposed to do?

  "Sharde?" A hand descended on her shoulder.

  She shook it off and slowly turned to face him. "I'll sleep in the SUV."

  "Don't be ridiculous. You'd freeze."

  "Then you sleep there."

  "Do I look like I'm interested in freezing to death?" He closed his hands over her arms. "It's too cold to hold this conversation out here. Come inside where we can talk without danger of freezing to death."

  Taking Chances 1: Falling for Sharde is now available from marilynlee.org

  Mature Men: Long Slow Second Look

  © 2014 Marilyn Lee

  All rights reserved

  John Reddorn

  Like most men I like pretty women. In my younger, lustier days I wouldn't have given Amber Hunt-Darkwater a short second glance. A long slow second one would have been out of the question. But by the time she and I met I'd had my fill of vain, high maintenance women who thought all they had to bring to a relationship was a slender body and a beautiful face.

  Though I wasn't ready to admit it then, there was a black hole in my emotional life that left me dissatisfied and increasingly unhappy. I needed a woman in my life capable of exciting me emotionally as well as physically.

  At forty-two, I'd spent the ten years since my divorce engaging in a series of meaningless relationships that were little more than extended one-night stands. For a while, I really enjoyed how being single again afforded me the freedom to sleep with a succession of beautiful women. However, once I stopped thinking exclusively with my third leg, I realized that something was missing. It took a few years for me to realize that none of my current or past relationships had ever met my emotional needs.

  Not even with Julie, the beautiful woman I'd fallen into deep and instant lust with the moment I saw her and quickly married, had I been happy or even content for long. Our sexual chemistry was off the charts. Nevertheless, after a few years it was no longer enough for me. Even now, she was still gorgeous and capable of exciting me sexually but equally incapable of assuaging the inner ache that longed for more than just physical compatibility with a woman.

  My grandfather often told my brothers and me that to be truly happy a man needed just one special woman in his life who would be his cher. He was fond of telling us to look deeper than the surface because a woman needn't possess physical beauty to command a mature man's heart for as long as she lived.

  Granddad practiced what he preached. Although we all loved grandma dearly, no one could call her anything but very average looking. However, when the two were in the same room, it was difficult to find a moment when he wasn't gazing fondly in her direction. Anyone seeing them together knew she owned his heart.

  The conviction that a man shouldn't judge a woman solely on her physical beauty was a sentiment echoed by Brandon Grayhawk, a family friend who was fond of telling me I would never be completely happy with any woman until I met and settled down with my sheenea. While we were both Native American, I
was much more Americanized than Brandon and his family.

  Despite hearing it from my grandfather and Brandon, I can't say I'd ever believed in the concept of a single woman who could meet both my sexual and emotional needs. Nor did the thought of marrying or even dating a plain Jane appeal to me. However, by the time I met Amber, I was open to the possibility of having a platonic relationship with a woman who didn't excite me sexually.

  Having accepted the fact that I yearned for more than any pretty woman I'd ever bedded have given me, I decided to separate my needs into two components with a woman or women to share each part of my life. When I was horny I'd still want a pretty woman in my bed. But once my sexual needs had been filled, I wanted to spend more time with an intelligent woman who possessed a sense of humor. She should also be able to hold a decent conversation and know she had to work as hard as I did at maintaining a meaningful relationship. In other words, I was looking for a friend of the opposite sex with absolutely no sexual benefits sought or given to share the rest of my life with.

  I had no idea where I'd find such a woman until the night I met Amber at a party given by our mutual friend Grace. I was blown away within seconds of our introduction.

  "Amber, this is John Reddorn. Johnny, this is Amber Hunt-Darkwater."

  Amber wore a dark red dress that fell below her knees and complimented her full-figured body. A simple gold chain drew attention to her large breasts. Everything about her was pleasingly dark: her hair, her eyes, and her skin. She had an amazing smile that lit up her eyes and transformed her face from plainness to worth a long, slow second look; several of them in fact.

  She placed a soft warm hand in mine. "Hello Johnny or John?"

  She had a sweet husky voice I could easily imagine myself listening to for hours without wishing she'd shut the fuck up and just take off her clothes. Her subtle perfume filled my nostrils and intoxicated my senses. Inexplicably thoughts of raw hot sex overwhelmed me. Get a grip, Reddorn. This is about friendship not sex.