The Best Is Yet to Come (Summer Lake 1) - Page 26

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He pulled her closer, his arm tight over her waist, his hand curling into her rib cage. Holding her breath, she listened to his breathing. It was even, and she assumed he was still asleep, that his reaching for her had been completely unconscious.

A week ago, she would have been up and out of his bed in seconds, throwing on her clothes and getting in his rowboat, speeding across the lake as fast as her arms could take her to make sure she put distance between them. But last night, he'd been there for her in a way no one ever had. He'd been there for her mother too, taking care of both of them in the ambulance and in the hospital.

Somewhere between then and now--between that moment when he'd come rushing into the store with the paramedic crew and the one where he'd pointed out cloud formations on his dock, between the moment she'd trusted him to strip her clothes off to put her into his bed and then slept all night curled up in the safety of his arms--she'd realized a new truth. No matter what happened out in the real world, whether condos were built or not, whether they lived in cities or small towns, she could always count on him.

They had always been in it together as best friends and playmates, practically from birth. He'd been the boy in sixth grade who had taken her to the office for ice when they'd been playing kickball and the ball had nailed her in the nose. He'd been the teenager who had asked her to dance in eighth grade at their first real after-school party when she'd been standing all alone in the corner. He'd been the one to pull her out of the way of the propeller when she had fallen out of the speedboat in tenth grade, letting her cling to him long past when she'd stopped shaking. And he'd been her first lover at seventeen, the night she'd pulled him into the backseat of his beat-up old car, and they'd lost their virginity together.

As the magnitude of her realizations brought her more and more awake, she realized Calvin's breathing was no longer even and there was a slight tension in the arm slung across her.

Last night had been pure comfort, without even a hint of sexuality between them. But this morning, with his muscles hot and hard against her skin, she had another epiphany.

She wanted him. Just as she always had.

Just as she always would.

And even though the voice of common sense screamed inside her head, trying to get her to listen, to stop before things went any further, something much stronger than common sense had her silencing that voice and moving her hand over Calvin's to thread her fingers between his.

Slowly she brought his hand up over her stomach, her rib cage, losing her breath as she took him between the valley of her breasts, not stopping until she held his fingers against her mouth. She pressed a kiss against his fingers, the small hairs on his knuckles brushing against her lips as she followed up with another kiss and then another.

Against her hips, she felt the growing proof of his arousal. It was pure instinct to shift herself into him. His low groan came from behind her, and the sound, combined with the incredibly sensual pleasures of finally being so close with him again, had her skin prickling with awareness.

And unabashed need.

It was the most natural thing in the world to turn around, to put her arms around his neck and press her mouth against his. Not breaking their kiss, a heartbeat later, his heavy weight was completely over her, pressing her down into the bed. His tongue found hers, and as a soft moan of pleasure found its way from her chest to her throat and out her mouth, her legs moved apart for him so that he could press deeper against her.

She'd never had another lover like Calvin, never wanted to run her hands and mouth everywhere at once. But she already knew he wouldn't let her lips go, not when he was holding her a willing prisoner with his, so she used her hands instead. She wanted to go fast, but she made herself move slowly, running her hands down from his neck, across his broad shoulders, then down his back.

Her hunger was even stronger for the memories of how good it had been between them so long ago. Stronger for the sure knowledge that it was going to be even better--so much better--after denying herself for so long.

She didn't want anything between them, not even the thin cotton of his T-shirt or hers, so when she found the hem of his shirt, she gripped it in her fists and pulled it up, letting the edge of her fingers, her nails, rake lightly across his skin. His muscles rippled beneath her hands, and she felt him suck a breath in deep as he lifted himself high enough that she could take the shirt all the way up and off.

There was enough light in the room now for her to see him, to stare at his incredible beauty.

He was perfect, his muscles rippling, his skin tanned and so beautifully kissable. And when she looked up at his face again in absolute wonder at finally being here with him, she saw the same wonder in his eyes. Wonder tangled up with heat.

"Now you," he said, but she couldn't wrap her brain around his words, not until she felt his fingers skimming her belly as he slowly lifted her shirt up across her sensitive skin. His fingers caught against the curve of her lace-covered breasts, making her shake with need.

He took his time looking at her, his dark, hot eyes burning a sizzling path across her skin that had her trembling. He'd seen her without her clothes before, but ten years had passed between then and now. She wasn't a girl anymore. And he definitely wasn't a boy.

And then he was lowering his head and she felt the soft press of his mouth on the upper swell of her breasts, first one and then the other. They were just kisses at first, until his tongue began to lave her skin, dipping into one cup of her bra.

Sarah's memories of making love with Calvin had been so sweet, so good. But the truth was it had never been like this between them. They'd been teenagers before, barely scratching the surface of adulthood. They'd had no real-life experience. No understanding of just how much intimacy like this meant. How deep a mark it would make on them forever. Not just on their bodies, but way down into the center of their hearts.

She arched into him, desperate for more, and he groaned at her obvious pleasure before moving his mouth to her other breast. She was turning to liquid pleasure, melting as his mouth came down over the other sensitive peak--and she couldn't remember a single reason why she'd ever denied herself this man.

"Beautiful," he said as he pulled back to look at her, and she cried out not only from the delicious physical sensations, but also from the look in his eyes, the emotion that he wasn't trying to hide from her anymore.

And the fact that being together like this felt so right.

Her bra was gone a moment later, his large hands cupping her flesh so that he could run kisses over both breasts at once. Her head fell back against the pillows as she tried to take it all in, pleasure so deep she thought she'd burst. Just when she thought she had found a way to deal with it, he was moving away from her breasts, his mouth kissing a path down her rib cage. Anticipation rode her, drove her arousal even higher, as his fingers slipped into the sides of her underwear and he slowly slid it off.

"You are so beautiful," he said against her stomach between kisses, and then his fingers were moving over her, across the slick, hot skin between her thighs. "More beautiful than ever."

She lifted her hips into the press of his hand, groaning as he cupped her, begging silently for more. He must have heard her silent plea, because the next thing she knew, his mouth was there, between her legs. She cried out as she peaked and fell beneath his lips and tongue.

It was too much, so much more than she'd ever felt with anyone else. She couldn't remember anything or anyone that had come before Calvin, couldn't possibly think about what would come after.

Her climax took her over, took over everything that had come before, took over everything that might come next, made her forget everything she needed to forget...and remember everything she'd been so scared to remember. The wet slick of his tongue over her, into her. The strength of his hands as he gripped her hips, as he held her right where he needed her, right where she needed him. The heat they created, so much that she swore she was going to ignite right then a

nd there, that she'd be nothing but smoke and ashes soon, and that she wouldn't have it any other way. Wouldn't want anything more than this, couldn't ever want anything but Calvin, the way they were right here, right now, with nothing forbidden anymore, and no more secrets from each other when they were in each other's arms.

It took several long, floating moments before she resurfaced from the shocking pleasure. She'd never felt so soft, so womanly, so good, as he moved his mouth down over her thighs, kicking the covers off so that he could press kisses against her knees, her shins, her ankles, the tops of her feet.

Only with Calvin had she ever felt this much love.

And now, she thought as he lay back on the bed and pulled her over him, it was her turn to show him with her body, with her mouth, with her hands, all the things she didn't know if she could ever say out loud.


Straddling his hips, looking down at him with deep satisfaction, Sarah was soft and naked and so beautiful that Calvin could hardly breathe, could hardly believe she was finally here with him in his bed.

He hadn't been a saint in the past ten years, but being with Sarah again made it painfully clear that she wasn't only his first.

She was the only one who mattered.

All week, ever since he'd seen her outside the yarn store, he'd been warning himself about keeping his distance, and this was why. He wouldn't have had to warn himself to stay away if she hadn't been so important.

But while he couldn't escape from the fact that they were going to have to stop and figure all this out soon--too soon--he refused to turn away from her now. Not while Sarah, his Sarah, was soft and sweet and giving herself to him so openly. Not when he never wanted to stop loving her. Not when he could listen to the sound of her coming apart beneath his mouth, his hands, over and over for a hundred years and never tire of hearing it.

Her hands were splayed flat across his chest. "I don't know where to start," she said, almost as if she were talking to herself.

"Anywhere, sweetheart."

And then she was leaning down over him, her silky hair blanketing his chest, his shoulders, as her mouth ran a path across his skin from his arms down to his hands, loving each finger separately before she moved back up to his shoulder, to his neck.

He couldn't keep from stealing a kiss, from capturing her lips and tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted so good. Absolutely everywhere.

Tags: Bella Andre Summer Lake Romance