Kristin Hardy - Bad Behaviour

Too soon, she thought frantically, moving away a fraction. Too much. Too…she didn’t know, confusing. It was the past, it was the present, it was fun and then suddenly all too serious.

And she needed more time.

“No,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him.

But he didn’t step away. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder what it’s like after all this time? You know you do.” His gaze delved into hers. “Come on, Delaney,” he murmured. “Kiss me. I dare you.”

And with a curse, she dragged his head down to hers.

4

IT WAS DIFFERENT, WAS HER first thought. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt with him. Dom had been gentle once, tentative. But that had been years before. Now, he dove into the kiss, feasting on her mouth, each touch and press igniting the demand for more.

And she dove in headlong after him.

Heat. Hunger. She nipped at him. Her lips parted, more in demand than in invitation. It wasn’t enough just to touch, she needed to taste. She moaned when his tongue stroked against hers, not the long, leisurely swirls she remembered from before but a tantalizing dart and slide that teased more than it satisfied. And before she’d had anything like enough, he backed off, drawing her lower lip into his mouth.

It was the same and yet not the same. The last time they’d kissed, he’d been not much more than a boy. Now, he was a man and she could feel the tickle of his beard.

And she could taste the desire.

More than that, she could feel the strength in his hands and arms, the hard muscle of his body. He was lean and rangy but she felt the power there, felt the solid width of his back as she wrapped herself around him.

The kiss stretched out. Time didn’t matter, only the slide of lip against lip, the slick duel of tongues. It seemed extraordinary that just that morning she’d had no idea whether he even still existed, and now she was so desperate for him that she wanted him everywhere at once.

As though he’d heard her thoughts he shifted to press his lips to her neck as if seeking sustenance. She could only let her head drop back helplessly as his mouth traveled lower, down her throat, into the deep neckline of her dress.

When she’d kissed him last they’d still been amazed and overwhelmed by the novelty of French kissing, by the pleasure that mouth could give mouth. And later, she recalled, by the startling feel of his hands on her breasts, hot even through the fabric of her shirts.

Save for that one startling night behind the garage, hidden away, when he’d put his hands under her bra and scared her a little. They’d never gone further than that, though, and things ended soon after.

She’d wondered about him over the years, wondered how it would have been if she’d capitulated that night. But what could that fourteen-year-old boy have known about making love?

Now, though, he wasn’t fourteen any more. He’d learned in the intervening years, he’d learned all kinds of tricks. Kissing was no longer an end in and of itself, kissing was the invitation—enough to tantalize, to have the tension curling deep inside her, the demand whispering through her veins.

She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman who knew what she wanted.

And what she wanted was him.

DOM HAD WATCHED HER, FELT her on the dance floor, needed until his system throbbed with it. Now, all he wanted to do was devour the softness of her mouth, feel that willowy body against his, sink into her. And when she growled low in her throat and took the kiss deeper, he felt himself harden.

She caught his lip between her teeth and bit down, the flash of pain jolting him for a fraction of an instant before the soft slide of her tongue wiped it away. There was addiction in that wide, mobile mouth. There was addiction in the sweet, spicy taste of her. And all he wanted was more.

He could tell himself he’d approached her because he’d wanted to see her again, wanted to talk with her. But that wasn’t it completely and he knew it because all he really wanted, all he’d wanted from the instant he’d recognized her was this moment of crushing her against him, devouring her mouth with his, rediscovering her taste, her touch, the softness of her lips. Need hammered at him, to have her naked against him, under him, to feel her wet heat as he drove himself into her. He had to have her.

Now.

“I think we should—” Then he inhaled sharply as he felt as much as heard his zipper coming down. “What are you doing?”

Delaney laughed against his lips. “A guy your age, you shouldn’t have to ask that.” And she caught a breath. “Why Jake the Snake, no underwear? A nice private-school boy like you?”

He’d thought he was already as hard as he could get, but at the first brush of her fingers on his bare cock, he swore he turned into granite. “Stop,” he growled when he could get a breath.

“Stop?” she repeated, moving her hand. “Why?”

He was about two seconds away from coming and he didn’t want to waste it like this. “We’re behind a bar, for one thing.”

“So? We used to make out behind a garage.”

“Not like this, we didn’t.” She shifted her motion and he swore. “There are people wandering around.”

“Here?” She glanced at the patio behind them, then slipped her hand in farther. “Those people don’t care what we’re doing. They’re too wrapped up in each other. Besides, isn’t that what vacations are for, a little bad behavior? Come on.” She nibbled on his earlobe. “I dare you.”

“Stop it.”

She furled her fingers more tightly around him. “Don’t you like it?” She pouted.

Oh, he liked it, all right. He liked it enough that he was about ready to drag her off to some dark place, push that dress up around her hips and—

She leaned into his shoulder, draping herself over his leg, licking his neck. “I like it,” she whispered. “I like feeling you hard. I like knowing that I was the one who got you that way.”

She’d never touched him like this when they’d been together. If she had, he could pretty well guarantee that he would have lost it. Even now, all these years later it was taking all his control to hold on against the tempting slip of those clever fingers, the feel of her tongue on his skin.

He slid his hand up over her breast. And when he heard her catch her breath, it was his turn to laugh and still the movement of her wrist. “I think maybe you’d better let me take over,” he said softly, running his hands down over her hips. And slipping one hand stealthily up underneath her short skirt, trailed his fingers over the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She moaned again. He chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah , I think it’s my turn.”

He leaned down and pleasured himself by ravaging her mouth with his, bringing his fingers up higher beneath the silky fabric she wore under her dress. Only to find her already hot and slick and wet. Pure, unadulterated lust slammed through him.

There was nothing like this, using his fingers to touch her and intimately feel her body quake, hearing the inarticulate noises she made against his mouth. Knowing he was bringing her pleasure. Knowing he was taking her to the edge.

And he wanted more. Feeling her wasn’t enough, pressing into one another like the teenagers they’d once been wasn’t enough. He wanted everything, wanted her naked.

Wanted her now.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered feverishly. “Where are you staying?”

“Aqua Blue.”

“I’m at La Hacienda. It’s closer.”

“You just said the magic words,” she whispered.

He kissed her hard and then broke away, breathing heavily. “No, the magic words are ‘I have a condom.” ’

She grinned wide and beautiful. “I have lots of them,” she said.