Rochelle Alers - Breakaway

Gavin took a step, pressing Celia against the bumper of the truck. Banked passion flared to life as he ground his crotch against hers. Mouths joined, he lifted her to sit on the bumper, he moving to stand between her knees. He’d fulfilled two of his wishes. He’d tasted her mouth, was between her legs, but hadn’t joined his body to hers.

Celia had felt dead, empty inside until now. She wanted and needed Gavin to make love to her but common sense returned to shake her into an awareness of what Gavin was doing and what she was permitting him to do.

“No, Gavin. We can’t.”

Celia’s entreaty penetrated the thick fog of passion cloaking Gavin’s mind. His head came up, and he stared down into twin pools of black-filled shock rather than fear. He couldn’t believe he’d been ready to make love to Celia on the top of a truck like an animal in heat!

He took a backward step without releasing her. His fingers tightened slightly as he eased her off the bumper until her feet touched macadam.

He was annoyed with Celia for making it look as if he were a kept man, but even more angry with himself because he’d lost control. “Don’t ever insult me again by reaching into your purse or I’ll kiss you again, and it won’t be where no one will see us.”

Celia blinked as if coming out of a trance. The laughter that began in her chest spilled over as her shoulders shook. “Do you actually believe you were punishing me because you kissed me without asking permission? You give yourself a little too much credit in the lovemaking department,” she taunted. “I let you kiss me, Gavin.”

Gavin thrust his face to within inches of hers, staring at her thoroughly kissed mouth. “You let me kiss you. But the all-important question is will you let me make love to you?”

Celia experienced a sense of freedom with Gavin she’d never felt with Yale. Although ten years her senior, Yale had not been very adventurous. Their lovemaking was satisfying because she always took the initiative to make it that way. If she’d left it up to Yale he would’ve made love to her only to procreate. She wasn’t what she would call horny, but sexually deprived. She’d missed foreplay, after-play and cuddling.

“I don’t know.” Celia didn’t know because she’d never been one to engage in gratuitous sex, and that’s what it would become if she allowed Gavin to share her bed.

Leaning in closer, Gavin kissed the end of her nose. He’d felt himself a winner only because she hadn’t said no. “It’s all right, baby. I will never pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Celia winked at him. “And I promise not to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.” She kissed his cheek. “Go home, Gavin, so I can plan for our cook-off challenge.”

A network of lines fanned out around Gavin’s eyes when he smiled at the woman who made him feel things he didn’t want to feel, made him want to do things he shouldn’t do. “Is it going down at my place or yours?”

“My place, of course.”

“Do you have a grill?” Celia nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow around ten.”

“Why so early?” Celia asked.

“It’s going to take at least eight hours to cook my pork.” Gavin reached for Celia’s handbag off the console between the seats, handing it to her. “I’ll wait until you’re inside before I leave.”

He watched her walk and waited for her to open and close the door before driving away. His plan to punish her for what he considered the ultimate insult whenever he took a woman out to eat had backfired.

Gavin knew he had to be careful—very, very careful when interacting with Celia Cole-Thomas or he would find himself in too deep.

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