Christy McKellen - Mills & Boon Showcase

For a long, still moment he held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He closed his eyes, breathed in the vanilla scent of her hair, scarcely able to believe it was real and she was here with him. He could feel the warm sigh of her breath on his neck, hear the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat. Then he kissed her. He kissed the curve of her throat. He kissed the delicate hollow beneath her ear. He pressed small, hungry kisses along the line of her jaw. Then he kissed her on the mouth.

Without hesitation Sandy kissed him right back. She tasted of coffee and chocolate and her own familiar sweetness. As she wound her arms around his neck, met his tongue with hers, she made that sexy little murmur deep in her throat that he remembered from a long time ago. It drove him nearly crazy with want.

Secure in the privacy of the boathouse, he kissed her long enough for them to catch right up on the way they’d explored kissing each other all those years ago. Until kissing no longer seemed enough.

The straps of her yellow dress gave little resistance as he slid them down her smooth shoulders. She shrugged to make it easier for him. Without the support of the straps, the top of her dress fell open. He could see the edge of her bra, the swell of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples. He kissed down her neck and across the roundness of her breasts, until she gasped and her hands curled tightly into his shoulders.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

But with an intense effort he forced himself to pull back. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No,’ she said immediately. ‘Not yet. I couldn’t bear it if you stopped.’

In reply, he scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes widened with surprise and excitement. Her arms tightened around his neck and she snuggled her cheek against his shoulder.

She laughed as he marched her towards the bedroom end of the boathouse. ‘Even more muscles than when you were nineteen,’ she murmured in exaggerated admiration, her voice husky with desire.

She was still laughing as he laid her on the bed—his big, lonely bed. Her dress was rucked up around her slender tanned thighs, giving him a tantalising glimpse of red panties. She kicked off her shoes into the air, laughed again as they fell to the wooden floor with two soft thuds. Then she held out her arms to urge him to join her. Warm, vibrant Sandy, just as he remembered her. Only more womanly, more confident, more seductive.

He kicked off his own shoes and lay down next to her. He leaned over her as she lay back against the pillows, her face flushed, her eyes wide.

‘I never thought I’d see you back here.’ His voice was hoarse with need for her.

She kissed him. ‘Do you remember the sand outside this place? How scratchy it was?’ she asked. ‘How we’d sneak off there whenever we could get away from everyone.’

‘How could I forget?’ he replied. Ever since she’d walked into the hotel and back into his life he’d thought of little else.

‘This is so much more comfortable,’ she said, with on-purpose seduction in her smile. She pulled him down to her to kiss him again. ‘And private,’ she murmured against his mouth.

Her kiss was urgent, hungry, and he responded in kind. Outside on that sand as teenagers they’d fooled around as though they had all the time in the world. Now they had a clock ticking on their reunion. And they were playing grown-up games.

Within minutes he’d rid her of her dress and her bra. He explored the lush new fullness of her breasts. Kissed and teased her nipples.

He lifted his head and she made a murmur of protest. His voice was ragged. ‘You sure you’re ready for this?’

Sandy’s eyes were huge. ‘I should say no. I should say we need to spend more time together first, that we can’t rush into anything we might regret.’ Her voice broke. ‘But I can’t say no. I want you too much. Have always wanted you... Don’t stop, Ben. Please don’t stop.’

What she’d said about not rushing made sense. This was going faster than he could have anticipated. He should be the sensible one. Should stop it. But he was beyond thinking sensibly when it came to Sandy. He only had four days with her.

She kissed him. He kissed her back and was done for. The last restraints gone. He stroked down the curve of her belly, felt her tremble at his touch. Then her panties were gone and he explored there too.

‘Not fair. I want to get you naked as well,’ she murmured as she started to divest him of his clothes.

She kissed a hot trail across his chest as she slid off his shirt, stroked right down his arms. Her fingers weren’t quite steady as she fumbled with the zipper on his shorts. It made the act of pulling them over his hips a series of tantalising caresses along his butt and thighs that made his body harden so much it ached.

Then they were naked together.

* * *

Sandy’s heart was doing the flipping over thing so rapidly she felt dizzy. Or maybe the dizziness was from the desire that throbbed through her, that made her press her body close to Ben. Close. Closer. Not close enough.

Did that urgent whimper come from her as Ben teased her taut nipples with his tongue? As he stroked her belly and below until she bucked against his hand with need? She gasped for breath as ripples of pleasure pulsed everywhere he touched. Revelled in the intensity of the intimacy they were sharing.

This was further than they’d gone the last time they’d been on this beach together. Now she wanted more. Much more. He was as ready for her as she was for him. She shifted her hips to accommodate him, to welcome him—at last.

Then she stilled at the same time as he did. Spoke at the same time as he did.

‘Protection.’

‘Birth control.’

He groaned, pressed a hard, urgent kiss against her mouth, then swung himself off the bed.

Sandy felt bereft of his warmth and presence. The bed seemed very big and empty without him. Hurry, hurry, hurry back! She wriggled on the quilt in an ecstasy of anticipation, pressed her thighs together hard. Twelve years she’d waited, and she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

But she contained her impatience enough to watch in sensual appreciation as Ben, buck naked, strode without a trace of self-consciousness towards the tall dresser at the other side of the bed. He was magnificent, her surf god, in just his skin. Broad shoulders tapering to the tight defined muscles of his back; firm, strong buttocks, pale against the tan of the rest of him; long, muscular legs. A wave of pure longing for him swept through her and she gripped her hands tight by her sides.

He reached the dresser, pulled out the top drawer.

Yes! Get the protection and get back here. Pronto!

But he hesitated—that taut, magnificent body was suddenly very still. Then he reached for a small framed photo that stood on the top of the dresser. It was too far away for Sandy to make out the details, just that there was a woman. Ben picked it up and slid it into the drawer, face downwards.

Sandy caught her breath.

Jodi. The photo must be of Jodi.

Ben didn’t want her to see it. Didn’t want Jodi seeing her naked on his bed.

And that was okay. Of course it was.

She had absolutely no reason to be upset by his action. He’d told her his late wife had loved him so unselfishly that she didn’t want him to be alone. Sandy couldn’t allow herself even a twinge of jealousy that Jodi had been the perfect wife.

But the desire that had been simmering though her suddenly went right off the boil. Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered. She pulled herself up on her elbows, looked around for something to cover her nakedness. She found his shirt, clutched it against her. It was still warm from his body heat.

Ben’s gaze caught hers in a long, silent connection. Sandy’s throat tightened. He knew she’d seen. But he didn’t say anything. She knew he wouldn’t. Knew she couldn’t ask—in spite of his earlier frankness.