Kitabı oku: «The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection», sayfa 72
Twelve
It can be very tempting, particularly on lonely nights, to look up your ex. But the more you fall back on your old ways, the harder it will be to truly move on.
—excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)
It began as a walk on the beach. The air was warm and a full moon hung low in the sky, lighting their way. They didn’t say much. Just strolled quietly side by side. Then Dillon suggested they walk to the village for a drink, and alcohol in any form sounded pretty good to her.
When they got there they found themselves in the middle of a Mexican carnival. Colorful lanterns and twinkling lights lined the street, and the air was scented with a mouthwatering combination of sugar and spicy fried food.
They snacked on authentic Mexican treats, drank salty margaritas and danced to a live salsa band. The evening was a blur of bodies, bumping and grinding, laughter and fun. Ivy couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt more relaxed and…alive. Hadn’t it always been that way with Dillon? The man excelled at having a good time.
It was well after midnight when they headed back to the villa. They were halfway there before she realized Dillon was holding her hand. She’d obviously been impaired by the alcohol, because she liked the way it felt. She didn’t pull away. Not even when they went inside. If someone saw them that way, they could get the wrong idea. Or may be it was the right idea. Either way it could get very messy and complicated for both of them. But mostly for her.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right that after everything they had been through, after all the pain he’d caused her, Ivy still wanted him this much. Of all the possible men in the world, why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one?
It was dark and still in the villa. Probably everyone else was already in bed. As he walked her up the stairs, disappointment began to tug at her insides.
She didn’t want this night to end. She wanted to make this last, to feel happy just a little while longer. She didn’t want to fall asleep and wake knowing that it wouldn’t happen again.
She wanted to invite him into her room. She wanted him naked in her bed. One last time before they said goodbye forever.
That was a terrible idea. She should be trying to figure things out, not make them worse. And being caught sleeping with her ex would definitely make things worse.
Ivy would never hear the end of it from her mother. There was nothing she loved more than reminding Ivy of the mistakes she’d made, and finding new ones to nag her about.
So the decision that suited her best interest was to say good-night and go to sleep.
When they reached her bedroom door, she turned to him. To tell him she’d had a good time, and she was glad they could part from this vacation on better terms. Heck, may be they could even be friends. But before she knew what was happening, Dillon was kissing her. And even worse, she was kissing him back. Not just your run-of-the-mill making out, either. They were ravaging each other, as if they were battling over who wanted it more.
His mouth still on hers, he backed her into the room and shut the door. She couldn’t comprehend much over the moans and breathless sounds she had begun making, but she was pretty sure she heard the lock turn. Then Dillon was walking her backward. She wasn’t sure where until the backs of her thighs collided with the mattress.
She was vaguely aware that she was pulling at his clothes. She wanted skin. Didn’t matter where. Just something to put her hands on. She needed to put her hands on him.
Before she could get his shirt pulled from the waist of his slacks, she was on her back lying sideways across the bed, her calves dangling over the edge. And she couldn’t touch Dillon because he had her wrists pinned over her head with one of his hands.
Then he was kissing her, pushing her clothes out of the way so he had more area to explore. More to touch. Her stomach, her rib cage, and…oh! Her breasts. First through her bra, then he pushed that out of the way, too. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was thinking how small she was there, how he must have had much better, much bigger. Then she felt his mouth, hot and wet, and as long as he kept touching her, just like that, she didn’t care what size they were.
She felt his hand on her thigh and the sensation was so foreign to her, so exquisitely intense, she gasped and jerked with surprise.
Dillon stopped what he was doing and looked at her, his lids heavy. “Do you want me to stop?”
Oddly enough, his asking was even worse than if he were to ravage her without her permission. If she didn’t take this opportunity to stop him, she would only have herself to blame. And at the same time, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking it would be worth every bit of grief it caused her.
“Yes or no?” he asked, his eyes dark and intense. And she had no doubt that if she told him no, he would stop. No questions asked.
“Don’t stop.”
A hungry smile curled his mouth and the hand on her thigh began to slide upward.
At that point she knew there was no turning back. It was a done deal. She was going to sleep with Dillon. She was going to have sex with her ex-husband.
She really was crazy.
His breath was hot on her skin as he nibbled and kissed his way down her body. Touching, tasting. His fingers slipped inside the leg of her shorts, brushing against her panties…
At that point things began to get fuzzy. One minute her shorts were on, the next they had mysteriously disappeared. The same thing happened to her panties. Then Dillon was touching her. Slow, steady pressure. Warm and slippery.
She closed her eyes and gave herself permission to relax and enjoy. How could she have thought she didn’t need this? How had she gone so long without a man’s touch?
And no man knew her body the way Dillon did. No one made her feel as good. And what the hell was wrong with feeling good every now and then? Who better than a man who needed no road map to please her, who would never expect or want more than a very brief physical relationship? A fling.
Without warning Dillon pressed her thighs open, lowered his head and took her into his mouth. The sensation was so wickedly intense she cried out. Her hands fisted in his hair and she was making sounds, raspy and nonsensical. She didn’t seem to have any control left. She was flying on autopilot, and about to crash and burn.
Her breath was coming hard and fast, and the room slipped in and out of focus. Each individual sensation merged and tangled and fused together like the wick on a stick of dynamite, then it sparked and ignited.
The flame hissed and licked its way up, building and climbing. And when it reached her core, she blew apart, splintered into a million pieces.
She hovered there, somewhere between pain and pleasure, conscious and unconscious.
It seemed as though she melted back together, one little piece at a time, slowly, gradually, her pulse returning to normal. When she finally opened her eyes, Dillon was there, leaning over her. Watching. Waiting for her to return from the outer stratosphere. Then he leaned down and kissed her. So gently, so sweetly.
“I’ll see you later, Ivy.”
Wait. What?
Later?
She sat up, still dizzy and a little disoriented. “Where are you going?”
“My room.”
“But…” They had just gotten started.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Did I do something wrong?”
He looked almost…sad. Which made no sense at all. “No. You did everything right.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“You know where I’ll be if you need me.”
Then he left, closing the door quietly behind him. For several minutes she was too stunned to process what had just happened. To make sense of it.
Was this just another part of the game for him? Wasn’t it enough that she’d let him into her room? That she’d let him touch her?
Apparently not.
What did he want? For her to chase him? Would he settle for nothing less than total surrender?
And wasn’t that just like him?
She didn’t know if she should feel angry or hurt or disappointed, so she allowed herself all three. Was he honestly that arrogant? He had chased her relentlessly for days; now he was just going to turn his back on her?
Unless…
May be Dillon wasn’t as sure of himself, as self-confident, as she’d assumed. May be he needed her to come to him. May be, like her, he’d spent so long pushing people away, he had no idea how to let someone back inside.
Was it possible that under that arrogant facade he was just as lost and confused as she was?
And lonely.
Very, very lonely.
The idea was as sad as it was empowering.
And she knew exactly what she needed to do.
Ivy stepped into Dillon’s room. The light beside the bed was on, but he wasn’t lying there.
Her eyes were drawn to the curtains blowing in the open French doors. Dillon stood on the balcony, his back to her, leaning on the edge. He wore nothing but a pair of loose silk pajama bottoms.
She walked up behind him, and though she didn’t make a sound, he sensed her there.
“You lost?” he asked, not turning around.
Lost?
She’d been lost for the last ten years and was only now beginning to realize it.
“No,” she told him, hearing a quiver in her voice. Everything about him, about being close to him, both frightened and excited her. “For the first time in a long time I know exactly where I am.”
He just stood there, facing the ocean. She knew what he was waiting for. He wanted her to make the first move. He needed that validation.
The idea gave her an unfamiliar but exhilarating sense of power.
She stepped up behind him and lightly touched his bare back. He didn’t tense, didn’t flinch, as though he’d been expecting it. She flattened her hands, smoothed her palms across warm skin, feeling only lean muscle underneath. His back rose and fell steadily as he breathed, while her own breath seemed to be coming faster. She could feel the steady beat of his pulse while her own fluctuated wildly, knocking around inside of her chest like a Mexican jumping bean.
She slipped her hands around to rest over his solid abdomen just above his waistband, and felt the muscles contract. She pressed her cheek to his back, breathed in the scent of his skin, felt that rush of familiarity pour over her.
His hands didn’t stray from their perch on the railing but he said, “You’re trembling.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted and she let her hands wander higher, across his chest.
“No reason to be scared.”
She had every reason to be scared, to be terrified, even.
She was falling for him again. She was falling for a man she knew she could never have. They were stuck in a hopeless situation. A vicious cycle of piss-poor timing.
But she’d come too far to stop now. She was going through with this. She’d never wanted anything more.
She undid the tie on her robe and let it fall to the balcony floor, then pressed the length of her naked body against him. He sucked in a breath and groaned somewhere deep inside. She could feel it rumble through him, through muscle and skin into her breasts and her fingers and the curve of her belly.
They stood that way for several minutes, neither moving or making a sound. It was…nice, but she wasn’t looking for nice. She wanted fantastic. She wanted mind-blowing, rip-roaring ecstasy.
She dragged her nails lightly down his chest, from his shoulders all the way to his waistband, felt him tense. He was trying to be strong, trying to milk this for all he could but she could feel him losing it. And she liked it. She liked being the one in control.
She continued her exploration downward, just below his silky waistband, teased him there. “You told me you don’t wear pajamas.”
His reply came out breathy and uneven. “I lied.”
“I know you want me. Are you going to make me beg?”
She could swear she felt him smile. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
He turned abruptly, and before she knew it she was in his arms. Body to body, soul to soul. Then he was kissing her. And, oh, did he know how to kiss. He took control, possessed her. If he had wanted her to be the aggressor in this scenario, that moment had passed.
And what gave him the right? What if she wanted to be the one calling the shots for a change?
His hands wandered down her back, over her behind, his erection long and hard between them behind the slippery silk. He cupped her backside and squeezed so she bit his lip. Hard.
He gasped and jerked and for a second she thought she’d gone too far.
“Did I hurt you?”
His lids were heavy, eyes glassy and unfocused as he gazed down at her. “Yeah, but I liked it.”
So she did it again. She wrapped her hands around his head, pulled him down for a kiss, and sank her teeth into his lower lip. Dillon groaned and tunneled his fingers through her hair, fisted his hands in it. He pulled her head back to look at her, hovering on the line between pain and pleasure. This time there was a smile on his face. “I’m not sure what happened to you in the past ten years, but I like it.”
“It gets better.” She reached into his pajama bottoms and circled a hand around his erection. He mumbled a curse and his eyes rolled up. But when she tried to pull the pajamas down she only got them halfway past his hips before he caught her hand.
“We’re outside,” he reminded her.
She knew that. And to top it all off the light from the bedroom was silhouetting their bodies quite clearly.
“Oh, yeah?” She shook off his hand and shoved his pajamas the rest of the way down. “What’s your point?”
Then she was off her feet. She gasped as her back slammed hard against the villa wall beside the door. She was pinned between the door and the balcony railing, between rough stucco and Dillon’s long, lean body. He hesitated for a second, went stone still, as though he was afraid he might have gone too far.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and ground herself against him, so he could feel how wet she was. “Yeah, but I liked it.”
He seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and he didn’t hesitate. He drove himself inside her, hard and swift and so deep that she cried out. With pain and shock and pure ecstasy.
Dillon pulled out, hovered there for a second, torturing her. Then he plunged forward, and she gasped as the rough wall dug into her back. She’d spent such a long time dulling her feelings, pretending they didn’t matter. Now all she wanted to do was feel. Pleasure and lust and pain. She wanted it all, right here, right now. There was no such thing as too much.
“Harder,” she gasped and he drove hard against her, inside her. And when it wasn’t hard enough, she dug her nails into his back, dragged them across his skin. “Harder.”
He did as she asked. He may have been the one driving, but she had her foot on the accelerator. She was still in control.
She could feel him tensing, feel him losing it. Bit by bit.
She was doing that to him. She was making him lose control.
And when he took the plunge, when he shuddered and roared with release, she went over with him.
Thirteen
Nothing will change for you until you take control of your life and decide that you will be happy. You need movement in a positive forward direction.
—excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)
There were orgasms, and then there were orgasms. The kind that grabbed hold and didn’t let go until the absolute last bit of energy had been wrenched out. The kind that released so many endorphins and pheromones that it took several minutes for her body to realize it was twisted like a pretzel, to register that the tingling in her back was not from arousal, but the sharp stucco facade shredding her skin like cheddar on a cheese grater.
“Ow.”
Dillon lifted his head from her shoulder, where he’d dropped it a few minutes ago while he caught his breath. He shifted and she winced. “Problem?”
“Wall…sharp.”
Only then did she notice the grimace on his face.
“Disengage your claws and I’ll let you down.”
Oh, jeez! She hadn’t even realized she was still clinging to him. She loosened her grip and he eased her away from the wall and set her on her feet.
He pulled her into the bedroom, into the light. “Turn around. Let me see the damage.”
He examined her back and she watched him over her shoulder, trying to gauge his expression. “How bad is it?”
“Is the dress you’re wearing for the wedding backless by any chance?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Then it’s bad.”
“How bad?”
“It looks like someone ran a belt sander across your back. And you have pieces of the wall still stuck to your skin.”
“That would explain the pain, I guess.”
He touched her lightly between her shoulder blades and the sting made her wince. “We need to get this cleaned up.”
He turned her again and nudged her in the direction of the bathroom. When they were inside he switched on the light. Just like her bathroom, it was really bright with lots of mirror space. Miles of it. The floor-to-ceiling kind that screamed out each and every detail, down to the tiniest imperfection. Ivy crossed her arms over her breasts and sucked in her tummy, wishing she could suck in her hips, too. And her butt.
Dillon had no imperfections, she noticed, as he rummaged through his shaving kit. Nope. He looked just fine. Nicely shaped butt, muscular thighs…
He turned and crouched down to check the cupboard under the sink. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in horror.
He emerged with a first aid kit, and when he saw the look on her face asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Your tuxedo isn’t backless, is it?”
He turned to the mirror, inspecting the long red welts criss-crossing his back from his shoulders all the way down to his butt. “I never knew you had such a wild side.”
She bit her lip. “Sorry.”
He hooked a hand behind her neck, drew her to him and kissed her. Not quite passionate, but not a peck, either. “Darlin’, that was not a complaint.”
He let her go and set the first aid kit on the bathroom counter. He rummaged through it for cotton and antiseptic. How could he be so casual? Didn’t he feel the least bit self-conscious standing there naked? She sure did.
“Turn around.” He dabbed antiseptic on the cotton.
“This might sting.”
When the cool liquid touched her raw skin she tensed and sucked in a breath.
“Sorry.” He dabbed slowly and gently, starting at the top and working his way down. She wondered what he was thinking. If he was looking at her and noticing the way her body had…spread.
“My body has changed,” she said, in case he hadn’t noticed. So he wouldn’t suddenly look at her and think Ack, who is this cow I’ve been sleeping with? “I don’t look like I did in college.”
“Good,” he said, looking at her in the mirror. “I’m turned on by women, not girls.”
Oh, well, lucky her.
He tossed the used cotton in the trash and fished out a fresh one. “Besides, you don’t really look all that different.”
“I think your memory is failing.”
“My memory is crystal clear,” he said, flashing a devious grin over her shoulder. “I have video.”
Video? “What kind of video?”
“The video,” he said.
Her jaw dropped and her heart bottomed out. She hadn’t thought about the video for years. She had no reason to, considering he’d told her he erased it.
“Our special video?” she asked. “The one you absolutely swore you got rid of?”
“I lied.”
There were things on that video that she’d done for him, done to herself, without him in the frame, that he could have at any time used against her. He could have ruined her career. Her life!
“All done.” He tossed the used cotton in the trash and turned her toward him.
“Why did you keep it?”
“I wasn’t planning on using it against you, if that’s what you’re thinking. We made that for us. No one else is going to see it. Ever.”
Well, that was good to know. And it made her feel like even more of a slime for the things she’d written in her book. How could she have been so vindictive and immature? He’d had the ammunition to retaliate big-time, but he hadn’t done it.
“I am such an ass,” she said.
He sat on the edge of the counter and pulled her closer, between his slightly parted knees. God, he was beautiful. And she must be completely nuts, totally off her rocker to be standing here naked with him, casually chatting, as though they hadn’t just had sex so wild and out of control that they’d required first aid afterward.
And it would be a lie if she said she didn’t want to do it again.
“Are you angry?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure what to feel.
He pried her arms from their position guarding her chest and took her hands in his, weaving his fingers through hers. “The truth is, I don’t really know why I kept it. I didn’t even remember I had it until about a week ago. It was stashed in the back of my safe.”
A ripple of excitement, a shiver of anticipation, rippled across her skin. “Did you…watch it?”
He nodded.
Oh. My. God.
Just talking about it was getting him hard again. Not just getting. He was already there. And she was feeling that warm, fuzzy sensation. It started in her scalp and worked its way south toward her toes in a slow, easy rush.
She could hardly believe what she was going to ask next. Something was definitely wrong with her. “Then what did you do?”
A grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure you want to know?”
She did and she didn’t. But mostly she did, despite the fact that it was a little depraved and incredibly kinky.
She nodded.
“I watched it…” He rounded his hands over her hips, pulled her a little closer. “Then I went up to my room…” He leaned forward and nibbled her neck, her shoulder. “I took off my clothes…” His breath was warm on her ear and Ivy felt hot and cold all over—
“Then I took a very long, cold shower.”
Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. “That was mean.”
He laughed. “I had you going, though.”
She took a moment to breathe in his scent, to enjoy the way their bodies fit together, every dip and curve. It felt exactly the same. It felt…right.
And so wrong.
“What are we doing, Dillon?” She looked up at him. “We’re divorced.”
“Last I heard there’s no law against sleeping with your ex.” He tucked her hair back behind her ears. It was such a simple, sweet gesture of affection. One you did after being with someone for a long time. And that was kind of what this felt like. As though they hadn’t really been apart for ten long years. It was as if it had been a week or two and they were picking up exactly where they’d left off.
Only wiser.
“How’s your back feel?”
Back? What back? With his arms wrapped around her, his body warm and close, she hadn’t even noticed. “It feels much better.”
“I guess we got a little carried away.”
“I guess we did.”
“I pride myself on my stamina, but you took me down in seconds flat,” he admitted. “Before tonight, no one has ever managed to do that.”
“Is that a fact?” She took his hands and pulled him backward toward the door. “Well, then, May be we oughtta’ go into the bedroom and see if I can do that again.”
It mystified Ivy how some things never changed. She and Dillon had fallen easily back into their old routine. They made love, talked for a while, then made love again. Repeating the cycle until the hazy light of dawn crept up on them.
It was as frightening as it was settling. To know someone so well, but not really know them at all. To realize that as good as it could be, they had nowhere to take this. No future.
They lay curled up in the dark under the covers facing each other, arms and legs entwined, as though they couldn’t bear the idea of not touching each other. Not being close. Not looking each other in the eye.
May be because they both knew that after this week it might never happen again.
“Why didn’t you ever remarry?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “I guess once was enough. How about you?”
“I guess I never met anyone I liked enough to make that kind of commitment.”
“You always were a little commitment phobic,” he said, but she could tell by his smile he was teasing. “How many times did I have to ask you out before you finally said yes?”
“Enough that I realized you weren’t ever going to stop asking. I was so nervous on that first date. I was so afraid you were going to try to take advantage of me. But you were a perfect gentleman.”
“And it nearly killed me. The way I wanted you.” He smiled and shook his head. “That was the longest three months of my entire life.”
“I never told you this, but you were my first.”
“Yeah, I sorta figured.”
“You never said anything.”
“I thought that if you wanted me to know you would have said so.”
“Right from the start we didn’t talk to each other, did we? We couldn’t be honest. May be we just didn’t know how.”
“I guess we finally figured it out,” he said.
“Yeah, ten years too late.”
“Is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Too late.”
He couldn’t be serious. She propped herself up on her elbow. “You know that after this week, this has to end. It can’t go any further than this bedroom. If it were to get out, that would be the end of my career. My writing, my practice. I would lose everything.”
He sighed and rolled onto his back. “I guess that is a lot to ask, isn’t it?”
“Besides, my mom would disown me if you and I ever got back together.”
He grinned. “She never did like me much.”
“And how would your mother react if you brought me home for dinner?”
“I’m thinking…stroke, heart attack.”
She scooted up close to him and rested her head on his chest, sighed as his arms went around her. She had gone far too long without this. When she got back to the States, she would have to start dating again. Start living her life instead of watching it roll past without her. “We have until Sunday. Three more days. Let’s just enjoy them while we can.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
It was a good plan, so why couldn’t she shake the feeling, the fear, that three days with Dillon wouldn’t be nearly enough?
A loud, insistent pounding roused Ivy from a dead sleep. She tried to open her eyes but the room was too bright.
What time was it?
She squinted at the clock. They’d been sleeping for a whole three and a half hours.
The pounding stopped, then immediately started up again. Beside her, Dillon groaned and stuffed the pillow over his head.
She gave him a poke. “Someone is knocking on your door.”
“No kidding,” he said, his voice muffled and cranky. He never had been a morning person. Of course, they hadn’t gone to sleep until after seven, so this was technically like the middle of the night. “They’ll go away.”
They didn’t. Whoever it was pounded harder, then Dale called, “Dillon, wake up! It’s important!”
Dillon mumbled and cursed. He flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, naked and beautiful. She couldn’t have asked for a better view. A full moon in the morning.
She watched as he grabbed his robe and shoved his arms through the sleeves, then stomped to the door. He flung it open and in his cranky voice asked, “What?”
“Have you seen Blake and Deidre?”
“Of course not. I was sound asleep.”
“Well, they’re not here,” Dale said. “No one knows where they are.”
“And you think they’re in here with me? You picked a hell of a time to pretend you give a shit about your brother. They probably went out to breakfast or something.”
“I don’t think so. They left yesterday afternoon, and they haven’t been back.”
Ivy sat up in bed, instantly awake.
“Are you sure they haven’t been here?” Dillon asked. The crankiness was gone and concern had crept in to take its place.
“The rental car was gone all night and their bed wasn’t slept in.”
Fear lodged in Ivy’s gut. Deidre had been in pretty bad shape the other night. Ivy should have checked on her yesterday. She should have made sure she was okay.
What if she’d had another meltdown? What if she was in a hospital somewhere?
“I thought Ivy might know where they are,” Dale said, “but I can’t find her, either.”
“I haven’t seen her,” Dillon lied.
Something was definitely not right. Deidre wouldn’t just take off. Not without telling someone.
Ivy wrapped herself in the sheet and joined Dillon at the door. “Did you try calling her cell?”
It was almost funny the way Dale’s mouth fell open, how he looked from her, to Dillon, then back to her.
“Oh, there you are, Ivy,” Dillon said, acting surprised to see her. “How did you get in here?”
She shot him a look, then turned to Dale. “Did you call their cell phones? Deidre always keeps hers on and charged. She’s fanatical about it.”
“I tried calling them both and the calls go straight to voice mail.”
“Did you try calling your parents?” Dillon asked.
He shook his head. “I didn’t want to worry them.”
“Something isn’t right,” Ivy said.
“You know my brother. With our parents flying in tonight, there’s no way Blake would just take off.”
“Give us five minutes to get dressed,” Dillon said.
“Then we’ll figure out what to do.”
“The only thing left to do is call the police,” Dillon told everyone an hour and a half later.
They had called everyone they could think of who might possibly know where Deidre and Blake went. Friends, family, coworkers. They called the local hospital to see if anyone matching their descriptions had been admitted, and checked CNN just in case any accidents or unidentified tourists had been found. They had covered all the bases, and they had come up with nothing.
