The Family Simon: Tucker Part 9

"Prize?" Her voice was husky now. "Do I get to pick my prize?"

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of waves buffeting the beach and the whistle of wind in the palm leaves overhead. Things faded away, the rolling waves gentled and the wind softened. It was as if the those few seconds hung in the air-frozen in time-leaving him only with water and sand and Abby.

And a deep, dangerous undercurrent of s.e.xual awareness that he couldn't shake off, no matter how hard he tried.

"In that dress, you can pretty much ask for anything."

She moved slightly so that she was facing him, her eyes downcast, her chest rose and fell rapidly-as if she was having trouble breathing. And dammit if Tucker didn't have the same problem. The air was too heavy, it was filled with dark and l.u.s.tful things.

"Anything?" she repeated.

She glanced up suddenly, and Tucker was lost in the s.h.i.+ny depths of her eyes. Had they always been so...so large and expressive? He might have groaned when she licked her lips.

"Kiss me," she said suddenly.

Tucker gave himself a mental smackdown and cleared his throat as he desperately tried to get his s.h.i.+t together. He wanted to kiss her-he wanted to kiss her badly-but should they go there?

"Abby."

"Now, Tucker." Her hands reached up slowly and he felt the cool touch of her fingers along each side of his face. "I want you to kiss me now."

Her breath was like a whisper on his skin, and he closed his eyes as she gently tugged his face toward hers.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he said hoa.r.s.ely, his control thin, his arms snaking around her waist as he brought her flush to his body. G.o.d, she felt as good as she looked.

"I didn't ask you what you thought, Tucker." Her hands sank into his hair and her mouth slid across his, a gentle swipe that was merely a tease. "I just want my prize."

There was one second when he could have pushed her away. One second when he could have saved them both from heading down a path that would change everything.

But that second pa.s.sed when she made a s.e.xy sound in the back of her throat, and he opened his mouth over hers in a demanding, hungry kiss. He tasted wine and strawberries and Abby as his tongue delved inside her mouth seeking more.

Her lips were soft, pliant and he eased a bit, his mouth gentle as he tugged on her bottom lip before stroking her inside, with his tongue. He was slow. Thorough. Methodic. He wanted to take his time-make it count-because there would only be one first kiss.

He cupped the back of her head, his body hot and urgent as her tongue slid inside his mouth and when she moaned, he thought he was gonna lose it. Their kiss turned hotter. Harder.

And Tucker couldn't remember the last time he'd been so desperate to get close to someone. To taste someone. To be inside someone.

He inhaled her sweet scent as he kissed his way along her jaw and when his hot, wet mouth slid under her earlobe, she sagged against him. Her hands slid across his shoulders and her hips moved provocatively, pus.h.i.+ng into his groin.

Tucker was hard. Good lord, he had the mother of all erections going on right now and he knew that she could feel it. He should stop them. He really should. But then she whispered or moaned, oh G.o.d, and he lost all hope of stopping.

There was no way. He couldn't get enough.

"Jesus Christ, you feel amazing," he said roughly, his mouth seeking hers again.

His hands slid down all that exposed skin at her back, all the way down to the slender dip at the base of her spine. His large hands slid lower and cupped her, pulling Abby even closer against him, before his fingers dipped below the material.

Her mouth was open, her tongue bold and curious as she kissed him back, every stroke making him harder. His fingers worked their way lower and...

Jesus. H. Christ.

He came up for air and rested his forehead against hers. "You're not wearing anything under this dress."

Abby shook her head and she might have whispered, no, or she might have made that s.e.xy little noise again. Tucker had no clue. All he could think about was the fact that Abby Mathews wasn't wearing underwear.

As in, she was commando.

His c.o.c.k twitched.

Jesus. f.u.c.k.

"Hey, now. What are you guys up to?" Rick Simon called out from the patio behind them.

Tucker had his back to his cousin and he knew that the lighting was too dim for Rick to see them properly.

He glanced down at Abby's swollen mouth and slowly let his hands drop. He cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair, his eyes never leaving Abby. s.h.i.+t. What to say?

"Abby," he said roughly.

She shook her head, took a moment and cleared her throat. "I'm just getting ready to head to the room, Rick." Abby answered, taking a step back from Tucker. "Can you give us a minute?"

How the h.e.l.l could she sound so in control when her chest still heaved and her hair was all over the place?

"Sure," Rick answered. "I'll just drink this here c.o.c.ktail that you won't be needing. Actually. I'll just maybe take it inside."

Tucker ignored his cousin, flush with satisfaction because the woman in front of him looked as if she'd been thoroughly kissed.

A few seconds pa.s.sed as the two of them regarded each other in silence. Tucker had no idea what was going on inside Abby's head, but he sure as h.e.l.l was glad she couldn't see what was going on inside his. Because it was all about naked bodies-his and Abby's.

"You might want to wait a bit before you head up to our room, Mr. Simon," she said softly.

Tucker glanced down at his straining erection, and then back up at her.

"You might want to wear underwear tomorrow, Miss Mathews."

She looked surprised for about a second and then laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that made his chest tight. Had she always sounded like that? As if she had the ability to lighten everything with the sound of her laughter?

Slowly, Abby stepped away from him, that generous mouth still curved into a smile. "You'll just have to kiss me again to find out."

Should Tucker be surprised by her bold statement? By the kiss they'd just shared that had pretty much rocked more than anything in recent memory?

Maybe he should have been. Maybe he should have been ashamed of himself for taking something that he had no right to take. Instead, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks and watched her disappear into the shadows surrounding the hotel.

He turned back toward the ocean, but this time as he gazed over the waves and watched them crash onto the beach, he didn't feel the melancholy or the darkness that he usually did. He felt something else. Something light and airy. Maybe even a little bit happy.

It took him a moment, but then he realized that what he was feeling was hope.

Chapter Ten.

The bride was beautiful and the groom handsome as the late afternoon sun touched the guests gathered for c.o.c.ktails just inside the old antebellum mansion. The wedding had taken place a few hours earlier, photos had been taken, and now it was time to celebrate.

The bridesmaids' dresses were sheer perfection-old rose in a cla.s.sic and simple strapless design that flattered the four women who wore them-and the flowers were gorgeous, white and pink peonies. The groomsmen were rakish in coattails, the guests distinguished, with a healthy balance between celebrities, politicians and people like Abby-plain old folk.

Music played softly while waiters worked the room, laden with trays of succulent scallops, mouth-watering mushrooms or crab and avocado canapes, and jumbo shrimp c.o.c.ktails. There was a slight breeze that was perfect, just enough to cool Abby's hot skin and that was a welcome relief.

G.o.d, it felt as if her cheeks had been burning since she'd woken up this morning to suns.h.i.+ne, the smell of fresh coffee and the memory of a kiss that had rocked her to the core.

Tucker had already been up, showered and ready to head out when she'd stumbled out of bed. For a moment, the two of them had stared at each other and she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Wasn't hard. The slow, sensual smile that crept over his face had left her knees weak and her stomach in knots. Last night had been a game changer, but in the bright light of the morning after, she wasn't sure if she was ready for anything to change. Or rather, Abby wasn't so sure she would survive it.

G.o.d, how had she gotten herself in this mess? Jesus. She knew better than to drink wine. It always loosened her tongue and opened up that box full of inhibitions she kept hidden away.

A moment had pa.s.sed. Then another.

And then she'd mumbled something unintelligible before hightailing it to the bathroom like a scared kid.

"c.r.a.p," she muttered, touching her flushed face as she ducked behind a large palm tree near the large foyer. Leaning against the cool wall, she closed her eyes in an effort to calm her nerves.

You'll just have to kiss me again to find out.

"I can't believe I said that," she groaned, biting her lip.

"What would, that, be?"

Her eyes shot open and her vision filled with six foot two inches of blond male beauty. Cooper Simon smiled, head c.o.c.ked to the side as he loosened his tie and undid his top b.u.t.ton.

Sweet Jesus, the guy was easy on the eyes and did he ever know it. He'd flirted with her outrageously the night before and though Abby genuinely liked him-it was hard not too-she wasn't in the mood to play his game right now.

"It's nothing," she said straightening her dress-a dress that Betty Jo Barker had nothing to do with, so her b.r.e.a.s.t.s weren't falling out the top, and the naked factor was minimal.

The high-neck top was a deep green satin that left her arms bare, while the soft fabric that fell from an empire waist stopped just above her knee. With her dark hair, the color choice was flattering, but, more importantly, everything was covered up.

Even more important was the fact that she was wearing underwear. Jesus, she would have pulled on a pair of granny-pants if she had any with her.

Cooper took a sip from his tumbler, amber liquid glittering as sunlight hit the gla.s.s.

"Nothing," he repeated, his voice like water over silk.

She shrugged, but didn't respond. She was still navigating her way through the Simon family and, contrary to what Tucker had told her, she thought that his cousin Cooper was a whole lot more complicated than he'd indicated. There were layers to this guy, layers that she wasn't sure his family knew about.

"So what's the story with you and Tucker anyway?" Cooper asked.

"There is no story. We're friends."

Friends who kiss.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

Cooper laughed and raised his gla.s.s. "I see why he likes you."

A waiter pa.s.sed by and Cooper grabbed a crystal flute. He handed it to Abby without asking if she wanted a drink. For a moment, there was that voice in the back of her head, the one that said, pace yourself, girl. You're beer and wings not champagne and pastries.

At her raised eyebrow, he grinned. "You look like you need it."

"You don't know me well enough to know what I need."

"I know more than you think," he replied. "Trust me, you need a drink."

"What is it with you?" She grumbled and eyed Cooper closely.

"You tell me." Cooper leaned closer.

Abby took a sip of champagne and rolled her shoulders slightly. She considered Cooper for a few moments, her irritation growing at about the same rate as his smile.

"You do know that my family owns a bar in New York City, right?" she asked.

"Yep." His smile widened even more. "Yes indeed, I believe that came up last night when you instructed the bartender on how to make the perfect martini."

Her cheeks heated. G.o.d. She'd been a little full of herself.

"Well there is a wrong way and there is the Mathews way. I'll give you two guesses as to which one is better."

Cooper held his gla.s.s aloft in mock salute. "I believe you."

Abby took another sip from her gla.s.s, relaxing a bit. "The thing is Cooper, working in a bar, being around people all the time, it gives a girl a certain perspective."

"I'm all ears," he said softly.

"I know people. I know how to read them. I know when they're hiding something, and I know when they're trying to be someone that they're not."

His eyes narrowed a bit, but the smile never left his face.

"You my friend," she said lightly, "are not what you seem."

"Really?"

"Really" she repeated.