Uncharted Waters Part 11

"Better," he murmured.

"Yes."

Her dress had fallen open at some point. The realization that the only thing separating her from him was the thin material of her bra made her s.h.i.+ver. The need for caution warred with the desperate need snapping and coiling inside her. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. His curse burned through the air when he couldn't get to the flesh inside. She couldn't bring herself to help him, but, oh, how she wanted him to touch her there.

An instant later the clasp sprang. She s.h.i.+vered as cool air enveloped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It had been so long since she'd been touched like this, she'd forgotten how powerful it could be.

"I want to fill my hands with you," he whispered.

She cried out when he cupped her, gasped his name when he trapped her sensitized nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. The last of her control tumbled away when he bent his head and took the sensitive tip into his mouth.

Closing her eyes against the hot burst of ecstasy, she arched, needing in a way she'd never needed before, wanting with a desperation she hadn't known was inside her. Her vision ebbed and flowed when he flicked her nipple with his tongue.

"Drew..."

"Let me," he said, taking the taut peak between his teeth and nipping gently.

Pleasure arced like a thousand volts of electricity through her body. Alison writhed, heard herself groan. Insanity descended and she gave it free rein. Fever grew within her, a fire burning out of control. He suckled and nibbled and teased until she thought she would explode. She could feel the hot pulse of wetness between her legs. He hadn't even touched her there and she felt on the verge of o.r.g.a.s.m. The power of it left her incredulous and filled with awe that he could do this to her.

When he raised his head and gazed into her eyes, she knew she was lost. To the moment. To him.

"You asked me what I was afraid of," he said softly.

"This," she whispered.

"You," he said and kissed her.

Bracing her against the door, he lifted her, parted her thighs and quickly stepped between them. She heard fabric rip, realized her dress had torn at the slit. She didn't care.

"Wrap yourself around me," he whispered. "Now."

Aware only of him, of his words, the feel of him against her and the need rampaging through her, she locked her legs around his hips, starkly aware that nothing but a sc.r.a.p of wet silk separated them. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her. Saying her name, he moved against her. Need sang through her body, so urgent she wanted to cry out. Arousal flowed like lava in her blood, churning and heating until she thought it would burn her alive.

She'd long since stopped thinking about consequences. The pleasure he gave her had silenced the tiny voice of reason in her head. She had no idea where this would lead them. If he would hurt her. Or if this went any further, if she would somehow end up hurting him.

As he kissed her long and hard and deep, she could only hold on for dear life and trust that he would see them through.

Drew poured four years of wanting and grief and guilt into kissing Alison. He touched her, awed by the softness of her flesh in his hands. Her beauty awed him. Her responsiveness humbled him, and his need for her soared to a fever pitch. In the backwaters of his mind, he wondered how she could want him. How she could want the man who had caused her husband's death.

He fought the descent of guilt. Fought it with all his might, using the pleasure of holding her, of kissing her as a s.h.i.+eld against the pain.

It wasn't enough.

Vaguely he was aware of her crying out his name as he kissed her, as his body moved against hers. He worked hard to pull himself back. But wanting her was like a sweet madness that beckoned like a siren drawing a hapless sailor onto treacherous rocks. He held her against the door, keenly aware that her legs were wrapped around his hips.

The knowledge that she wanted this devastated him. That she was wet and hot and open overwhelmed him with desire for her. All he had to do was move the thin sc.r.a.p of material aside and he could have her. Have the woman he'd wanted for so long that the need had become a part of him.

Kissing her was like breathing and he felt as if he would die if he stopped. He fed on her like a man deprived of life-giving oxygen. Sliding his hand along her thigh, he moved the elastic of her panties aside. She stiffened slightly, but he didn't stop and dipped two fingers into the wet heat at her center.

She went rigid. A mewling sound escaped her, followed by his name on a sigh. "Drew..."

"Easy. Let me touch you."

"This is..."

"This is not enough."

"Too much..."

"I want more." He stroked her, firmly and deeply and she moved tentatively against him, taking his fingers more deeply into the most intimate part of her.

"Drew..."

He closed his eyes against the raw intimacy of the moment, knowing fully that it was precious and rare and may never happen again. Her body began to contract. He whispered her name, stroking her, holding her as she writhed and cried out his name.

"I'm falling," she said.

"I've got you," he whispered. "I won't let you fall."

Her arms tightened around him. Her body jolted. He heard his name on her lips. She peaked, and he felt her release as if it were his own.

"Alison," he whispered.

The beauty of the moment shook him. That she would give him such a gift amazed him. A moment later the high-wire tension left her body and she sagged against him, pressing her cheek to his. Drew held her. He kissed her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose, her mouth. Always her mouth. He would never get enough of her mouth.

He didn't want to stop. He never wanted to stop when it came to Alison. What they'd shared was pure magic. But he knew it would make their relations.h.i.+p infinitely more complex. Maybe even impossible to maintain. But he'd gotten a taste of her, and he still wanted her so badly that he found himself willing to betray the best friend he'd ever had.

Take care...Alison and Kevin...

Rick's words came to him out of nowhere and with the force of a physical blow. The pain jolted him. The ensuing guilt devastated him. Suddenly he was aware of Alison against him. That his hands were on her body, inside her body. That he was aroused and on the verge of doing something irrevocable. Something he would never forgive himself for.

Easing away from her, he steadied her against the door and took a step back. Her eyes met his. Within their vivid blue depths, he saw everything he had feared for four long years. He saw desire. Tenderness. Respect. Caring. Emotions he'd longed to see, but would never be able to accept or reciprocate.

"Alison," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Her mouth was wet and chafed from his whiskers. The b.u.t.tons of her dress were undone and one side lay open, exposing the curve of her breast and the dark peak of her nipple. He wanted to replace the material and cover her, but he didn't dare touch. He knew there was a very good possibility that if he did he wouldn't stop.

He was keenly aware of her wetness on his fingertips. That she looked as if she'd just been thoroughly ravaged. They were both breathing as if they'd run a ten-mile marathon. Her pupils were dilated, nearly hiding the vivid blue of her irises. Her face was flushed and beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead.

At that moment, she was shatteringly beautiful, and he wanted her as he had never wanted another woman. It was going to kill him to walk away from her. But he knew he didn't have a choice.

"I have to go," he said.

She blinked, then glanced down at her unb.u.t.toned dress and clutched the fabric together. "Drew-"

"Don't say anything." Raising his hand, he backed away from her. "Just don't."

Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she didn't speak again. She just looked at him with those beautiful, devastated eyes. Eyes that cut him as cleanly as any blade.

Her knuckles were white where she clutched the fabric of her dress. Her hand was shaking. He hated himself for doing that to her. He hated it that he'd touched her. That he'd shown such utter disrespect to a woman he'd promised to take care of. Hated it even more that he didn't have the guts to stay and make it right for the simple reason that he didn't trust himself.

Turning away from her, he crossed to the door. She called out his name, but he didn't stop. He jerked it open and stepped onto the porch. He sensed her behind him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he slammed the door in her face and ran like the coward he was all the way to his truck.

CHAPTER NINE.

Alison dropped two slices of bread into the toaster while margarine melted in a skillet on the stove. She tried hard not to think about Drew and what had happened between them last night. For all the success she was having, she may as well have been splitting atoms. How was it that a contemporary, independent woman such as herself could do something so utterly foolish?

"Because you're an idiot," she muttered, fis.h.i.+ng the spatula out of the drawer.

From the bathroom, she could hear Kevin rummaging around for the sun block she'd told him to stow in his backpack. "It's in the top left drawer, honey," she shouted.

"I can't find it."

Crossing to the refrigerator, she snagged an egg and a carton of milk from the shelf. "I'll find it for you in a minute. Why don't you put on your sneakers then come out and eat your breakfast."

"'Kay!"

It was already seven forty-five and Kevin hadn't even eaten and she still had to pack his medicine and supplies for the day. Drew was going to arrive in fifteen minutes. Of all the days for her to oversleep, why did it have to be today?

But Alison knew good and well why she'd overslept. Because she'd spent the entire night either staring at the ceiling or the alarm clock, agonizing over what had happened. Toward morning, she'd dozed for short periods, but every time she did, images of the way he'd kissed her, of the way his hands had felt on her body a.s.sailed her. She wasn't sure which was worse-the disturbing realization that she'd liked it or the knowledge that it could never happen again.

Standing next to the stove, she closed her eyes at the memory, felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks. She simply couldn't believe what she'd done. One kiss, she could understand. After all, she liked and respected Drew. She'd known him for six years; they were friends. He was a good man. He was attractive.

But last night had changed everything and set them adrift in uncharted waters. How on earth was she supposed to handle this? For G.o.d's sake, he'd been her husband's best friend. He'd been her friend. That was all she wanted him to be. And yet a part of her wanted more. A whole lot more.

She could still feel the insistent pressure of his mouth against hers. Still smell the subtle, out-of-doors scent of his aftershave. She could still feel the way his hands caressed her body. The way he'd lifted her and stepped between her legs and opened her. The ensuing heat had burned as if she'd been on fire. She couldn't ever remember aching like that. He'd given her one of the most explosive o.r.g.a.s.ms she'd ever had in her life. The rightness of it warred with the innate wrongness. That war had torn at her throughout the night. Still tore at her. Like a gale wind at a tattered sail, and a boat careening out of control...

The sound of the doorbell jolted her. Gasping, her heart slamming hard against her ribs, Alison spun. The egg in her hand slipped. She made a sound of disgust as it splattered on the floor at her feet. Suddenly she was aware of Kevin's toast burning. She crossed to the toaster and flipped it up, but the bread popped up blackened and smoking.

The doorbell rang again. Glancing down at the egg on the tile, she crossed to the paper towel holder and yanked off two sheets, only to have the back of her hand knock over the carton of milk. She tried to keep the carton from falling, but she wasn't fast enough and it went over the side of the counter and hit the floor, spattering milk all over the cabinets and her ankles on impact.

"d.a.m.n it," she muttered.

"Mommy, I can't find my sneakers." Kevin walked into the kitchen s.h.i.+rtless and shoeless, looking adorable in his Spider-Man undies and little white socks. He stopped just inside the door, his gaze falling to the mess. "How come there's a egg on the floor?"

"An egg," she corrected. "And it's there because Mommy's got ten thumbs this morning."

"Ten thumbs?" He looked at her hands. "Nuh-uh."

She sighed when the doorbell rang again. "Your sneakers are in the utility room because I washed them. Don't forget to put on a T-s.h.i.+rt."

"'Kay."

Taking the paper towels with her, she rushed out of the kitchen to the front door. Her nerves sizzled as she crossed the foyer and reached for the k.n.o.b. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath then swung open the door.

Drew stood on the porch with his hands in the pockets of faded, cutoff jeans that were stretched snugly over lean hips. He wore a blue T-s.h.i.+rt that was just tight enough for her to see the outline of rock-hard abs and a chest that was rounded with muscle. The cap he wore touted "Water Flight Tours" and he wore it with the brim turned backward. He looked like a man about to embark on a serious fis.h.i.+ng expedition.

Alison stared at him, aware that her pulse was pounding. For some reason her mouth had gone bone dry, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a single thing to say that didn't have to do with chiseled lips or stormy blue eyes or a scowl that was a lot more appealing than it should have been.

Lord have mercy, Drew Evans was an attractive man. Why on earth hadn't she noticed that before? It wasn't like after six years that fact should suddenly shock her. But it did-right down to her toes.

Alison knew better than to let the sight of all that male beauty shake her. d.a.m.n it, she was already shaken enough remembering what had happened between them the night before. She was so shaken up, in fact, she hadn't even been able to pull off making her son's breakfast without turning the kitchen into a disaster zone.

Still, her eyes were drawn to him, past broad shoulders and a flat stomach to a part of his anatomy she did not want to think about. The shorts came to mid-thigh and she found her eyes taking in the powerful-looking muscles and sprinkling of black hair....

"Good morning," she said a little too quickly, and a whole lot breathlessly. "You're early."

He frowned slightly, looking at her from behind aviator's sungla.s.ses, and she found herself wis.h.i.+ng desperately that she could see his eyes. Just so she would know what he was thinking. Not that she'd ever been able to get inside Drew Evans's mind. But she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about this morning-the same thing she was-and the memory brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

Because she didn't know what else to say, she stepped aside. "Come in."

He hesitated.

"I was just fixing Kevin some breakfast. Would you like some? It won't take five minutes for me to whip up some eggs and toast." Oh, G.o.d, she was blabbering. How was she supposed to fix this man breakfast when her hands were shaking so badly, all she seemed capable of was breaking eggs and spilling milk? "Would you like some scrambled eggs and toast?"

"Ah, no thanks. I already ate."

Turning away, she started toward the kitchen aware that her legs were shaking, that her pulse was pounding and that her every sense was honed on the man behind her.

"Where's Kevin?" he asked.

"Putting on his sneakers." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry he's not ready to go yet. We overslept."

"No problem."

She entered the kitchen, went directly to the refrigerator and chose another egg. Drew paused at the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking down at the broken egg and spilled milk and wished she'd taken the time to clean them. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

At the stove, she turned on the flame and cracked the egg. Once it started sizzling, she stooped to clean up the broken one.

"Alison, about last night-"

"Don't apologize," she blurted, scooping the yolk into the paper towel.

He sighed. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm sorry."

Relieved that she had something to do besides look at him, she concentrated on sopping up the egg and ordered her nerves to settle. "It happened. We'll deal with it."

"Alison-"