Until the Sun Sets Page 7

  Fuck. Nothing he wanted to do to hide it either, because he liked that she was looking at him. Liked that she was turned on.

  He opened his mouth, and then closed it, totally unsure for the first time in his adult life what to say. Without a word, he turned and headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and cranking on the shower. He stripped out of his swim trunks, his achingly hard cock snapping against his stomach, and hung them on one of the hooks lining the wall. Stepping under the spray, he closed his eyes and tilted his face up, the water pelting against him.

  There was something so familiar, and yet so different about being with Carly. Familiar because he knew her—her likes and dislikes, her quirks, her habits. Familiar because he’d wanted lots of women in his lifetime. But different because he’d never wanted her like this before. Different because even though he was no stranger to arousal and sex, it felt new with her. Because she was familiar.

  Because he cared about her. A lot. Because she was pretty, and funny, and smart, and tasted like sunshine. Because it felt so fucking good to just pretend that he could end up with someone like her.

  But that’s all it was: pretend. And that’s all it could be. She deserved so much better than what he could give her. Even if he wanted to try.

  Well, except for the multiple orgasms. Those he knew he could help her with.

  At the thought, his cock throbbed, his balls tight. He was so hard he couldn’t even think straight. All he could think about was Carly, and how good it would feel to bury himself inside her. How sweet she’d look on her knees, taking him into her mouth. How perfect she’d taste, coming on his tongue. He shouldn’t want her this way, but he did.

  He gripped his cock, stroking himself. Heat pulsed down his spine. Maybe if he took care of himself, took the edge off, he’d be able to think. Breathe. He stroked himself again, imagining Carly riding him, his mouth on her breasts, his hands firm on her ass, helping her, guiding her, urging her to sink deeper . . .

  “Dean? Are you okay?”

  Shit. Somewhere in the back of his head, he registered that he’d moaned, lost in his fantasy about the very woman checking on him.

  She poked her head into the bathroom, and their eyes locked. Heat pulsed in the air between them, and her gaze drifted down to where his fist was still wrapped around his cock. She swallowed, her slender throat working. Then, meeting his eyes once again, she reached behind her neck and tugged on the tie of her bikini top. It fell forward, exposing two perfectly shaped handfuls, topped with light pink nipples. She undid the other tie, the one around her back, and the top fell to the ground. She started working her bottoms down over her hips, and then she kicked free of them, stepping into the shower.

  “Jesus, Car, you shouldn’t be in here,” he managed, using every ounce of strength he had to stop himself from reaching out for her. He knew if he touched her, he’d be a goner, and they’d be racing over a line they probably shouldn’t cross.

  “Probably not,” she said, her voice high and breathy. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roving over her body, all that creamy skin, those gorgeous breasts he wanted to lick, and kiss, and suck, and bite. His gaze traveled further down, devouring her. Fuck. She was completely smooth, bare and sweet. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to breathe. “But I want this as much as you do.” She stepped closer, close enough that his cock brushed against her stomach. She leaned forward and traced her lips over his chest, kissing a path from one pec to the other. She looked up at him, a few droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes. “You do want me, don’t you?” She kissed his chest again, her teeth scraping lightly over his skin.

  He let out a groan, the air around them practically sizzling. “You shouldn’t ask me that, sweetheart.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m barely hanging on here.”

  She stretched up onto her toes and kissed his jaw. “Then let go.”

  “Fuck.” His curse was a harsh, desperate whisper as he tugged her against him and closed his mouth over hers. She moaned as his tongue slid against hers, her hands tracing up and down his sides and over his stomach. She dipped her fingers into the ridges of his abs, the muscles along his hips, and it felt as though no one had ever really touched him before. Not like this. He was so experienced, and yet everything felt so shiny and new with her.

  It was terrifying, but felt too good to stop.

  Her hands dipped lower, and as he buried his face in her neck, she circled one of her hands around his cock, stroking him.

  “Were you thinking about me when you were touching yourself?” she asked.

  He flexed his hips, moving against her hand. “Yes.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, stroking him faster. Too fast. His hands rough on her hips, he spun her around, pulling her against him, so her back was flush against his chest, his cock snug against her ass and safe from her hands. He pushed her hair out of the way and trailed kisses over her neck and shoulders as his hands dipped lower, cupping her breasts, discovering the weight and shape of them with his palms. She arched her back, pressing into his touch. He caught her nipples and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, licking a path up her neck. He teased along the outside of her ear, and she gasped and moaned. So hot. So responsive.

  Leaving one hand on her breast, he slid the other lower, down over her stomach until he cupped her. She was hot against his hand, and spread her legs wider for him. Eager.

  He spread her lips with his fingers, opening her so he could explore. Slick heat greeted him, and he groaned against her skin, gently, slowly, touching her with light, teasing strokes. Wanting so badly to learn every inch of her, to discover what made her lose her mind. He already knew so much about her, but all of this was uncharted territory. Excitement spiked through him, and he circled his fingers around her clit.

  “Shiiiiiiiiiiit,” she gasped out, working her hips against his hand. “So good, Dean.”

  At the sound of his name on her lips, his cock jumped against her, throbbing, aching, wanting. He dipped his fingers lower, easing first just one, and then a second into her tight, wet heat. They moaned in unison, and he fucked her slowly with his fingers, feeling as though he were about to burst with how good she felt, her pussy fluttering around his fingers. He slicked his thumb over her clit, and she went rigid against him.

  “I’m so close,” she whispered, sounding both desperate and surprised. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  “I won’t. I don’t think I can. You feel so goddamn good, Carly. So wet and hot on my fingers.”

  She moaned, loud and long, and he kept his pace steady. Suddenly, her right leg started to shake, trembling violently against him. Her weight fell back against his chest as she contracted around his fingers, coming long and hard with a series of sighs and moans that only made him ache even more for her.

  She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing hard, her skin flushed, and he turned her around, needing to kiss her. “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he said against her mouth. She wove her hands into his hair, pulling him closer. He kissed her hard and deep, unable to get enough of her taste, the sounds she made for him.

  They were barreling toward something, a line that once crossed, couldn’t be uncrossed. If they had sex, it would change things.

  With a soul-straining effort, he broke the kiss. “This is probably a bad idea,” he said, although he wasn’t sure if he totally believed that.

  She looked up at him, so gorgeous with her kiss-swollen lips, her flushed skin, her bright eyes. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Maybe. Only one way to find out.” She kissed his neck, tracing her tongue over his collarbone.

  Well, fuck. He couldn’t really argue with that, now, could he?

  He captured her mouth again in a kiss, exploring her body with his hands, learning her curves, her sensitive spots, discovering her as though she wasn’t one of his best friends. He pulled away slightly as another sobering thought slammed into him.


  “I don’t have any condoms,” he said, barely able to hear himself over the blood pounding through his ears. Thinking that he’d be behaving himself on this trip, he hadn’t packed any.

  She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I have an IUD. We don’t need one. You’re good?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  She smiled up at him with so much heat, so much sweetness, that he felt it right in the center of his chest. “I trust you, Dean.”

  Yet another reason they probably shouldn’t do this, but he was too far gone to stop now. He wasn’t stupid enough to think there wouldn’t be any consequences to having sex with Carly, but they felt so small and insignificant compared to the need churning through him like a storm.

  “I’ve never done that before,” he said, closing his eyes as she started stroking his cock again. “Been bare inside someone.”

  “Mmm. Guess we’re popping two of your cherries today.”

  He opened his eyes. “Two?”

  “I want you to fuck me right here, in the shower. Bare. Just us.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he groaned before slamming his mouth back down onto hers. He wouldn’t have thought he’d have any firsts left, but it felt right, somehow, that he was sharing them with her.

  He slipped his hands under her ass and lifted her, pressing her back against the shower tiles. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want,” he said. If he was going to be bare inside her, he at least owed her that.

  She kissed him, working her hips against him, her arms around his neck. His cock slid against the hot, slick flesh between her legs, and they both moaned.

  “Right now, I just want you,” she whispered.

  Her words seared through him, and he pushed inside her, letting out a long, growling moan at how hot and wet and tight and perfect she was around him. He’d never been bare inside a woman before, and it was a million times better than he ever would’ve imagined. Maybe because it was new. Maybe because it was her.

  Inch by inch, he eased into her, and when he finally slid home, buried to the hilt, he stilled. His heart throbbed against his chest, and he rested his forehead against hers.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered, her breath warm against his mouth.

  “Holy shit,” he echoed back to her. Flexing his hips, he slowly withdrew almost all the way and then thrust back in, even deeper than before.

  “Oh, God, Dean. You feel so good. So big, shit,” she moaned, tightening her legs around his waist.

  “I’m so fucking hard right now,” he said, his breath coming in sharp gasps. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

  It was one of the most honest things he’d ever said during sex.

  She moaned, clenching around him as he stroked in and out of her, forcing himself to go slow, to make it last. “I’ve wanted this, too,” she said, kissing him, holding him tighter, as though she couldn’t get close enough. He lost himself in her, thrusting harder, faster, deeper, edged on by her purring moans, the clench of her body around his, the pleasure flashing through him, hot and bright. Their moans mingled with the patter of water against the tile, the wet claps of their bodies coming together, the air heavy with steam and sex.

  “Oh, God!” she cried out, her muscles spasming around him. “I think I’m gonna come again.”

  Gripping her, he adjusted the angle of his hips, dragging his cock against her swollen clit with each thrust in and out of her drenched pussy. “Come, baby. I want to feel it.”

  He wanted to be a first for her, too. Wanted to make her come more than once, wanted to watch and feel her come apart in his arms.

  She cried out his name as she came, squeezing him and pulling him even deeper into her body. Her muscles shook as fresh wetness slicked his cock, and he drove into her harder. His balls tightened as pleasure licked down his spine, coiling at the base of his cock. He thrust into her once, twice more, and then let go, coming inside her in long, hot spurts. Pouring himself into her.

  He caught her eyes, glazed with pleasure, and then kissed her, slow and sweet. He didn’t want to think about the future, or about how he may have just made a colossal mess of things. About how sex with Carly had felt more real, more intense, than anything he’d done before. A twinge of panic tightened his chest, and he pulled away.

  “Hey,” she said, her hand on his cheek, her eyes searching his. “No freaking out. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

  God, he wanted to believe that.

  Chapter Seven

  Carly rubbed a towel over her hair, a huge grin on her face. Her entire body hummed, her limbs heavy, the fire low in her belly sated.

  For now.

  A part of her had wondered if having sex with Dean was simply an itch she needed to scratch, something she needed to get out of her system. But now, after, she knew that wasn’t true. Once wouldn’t be enough. Not by a long shot.

  Dean emerged from the bathroom behind her, a white towel knotted low around his hips. Her stomach dipped and swirled because now she knew exactly what was under that towel. God, the sight of him touching himself, his hand stroking his long, thick cock, had almost made her spontaneously combust. The fact that he’d admitted to thinking about her while doing it?

  It was a miracle she was still alive.

  He brushed past her on his way to his suitcase, shooting her a tight smile. Not saying anything. The muscles across his back were bunched with tension—far too much tension for someone who’d just had fantastic sex. And she had no doubt that it had been as good for him as it had been for her.

  She crossed the room and slipped her arms around him from behind, kissing the warm skin of his back. He went very still, and after a moment, he turned to face her. Emotions chased each other across his face, and she knew he was on the verge of freaking out. Of telling her that it had been a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened, that it couldn’t happen again.

  Her mind flashed back to the conversation they’d had their first night here. He hadn’t admitted to being scared of commitment, scared of hurting someone, scared of getting hurt, but he hadn’t denied it either. She wasn’t sure what was happening between them, only knew that it had definite potential to be . . . something. And although it was risky, she wanted to explore that potential. If they could get past the awkward transition from friends to something more, if Dean could work through some of the crap holding him back . . . it could be really good. She already knew they had lots in common, got along great, made each other laugh, and had fun together.

  And, as it turned out, they were very sexually compatible.

  But she knew she’d have to tread carefully. They wouldn’t be able to explore anything at all if he ran for fear of hurting her. She’d have to ease him into it, while showing him what they could have if they took a chance.

  “Thank you,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist and kissing his chest.

  “Um. Sure. You’re welcome.” There was a tightness to his voice, and she looked up, catching his gaze.

  “You look like you’re about to hyperventilate. Should I get you a paper bag?”

  He shook his head and stepped away from her. “No, I just . . . shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending droplets of water cascading down his gorgeous chest. “I’m just not sure that should’ve happened.”

  She smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting her towel. “I don’t regret it. We both wanted it, and we’re both adults.”

  He sank down onto the bed beside her, his forearms braced on his thighs. “Mmm.”

  “Hey,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. He looked at her, his warring emotions playing out in his blue eyes. Confusion, and guilt, and lust, all there, plain as day. “It wouldn’t have happened if we both didn’t want it. I’m not asking you for anything, Dean. I know you’re working through some shit right now, and that’s okay. But that doesn’t mean that this,” she said, gesturing between them, “is a bad thing. So why don’t we just enjoy the rest of our time here? No regret
s. No promises. Just us, having fun.”

  He sighed, but some of the darkness in his eyes lightened. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Car. And I don’t want you to think—”

  “You won’t lose me as a friend. And I’m not thinking anything.” A flicker of guilt rose up in her chest, because that wasn’t entirely true. But he needed training wheels, and she was willing to be patient with him. “Except maybe about round two.”

  At that, the tension seemed to melt away, replaced with relief, happiness, and a wolfish hunger. He leaned forward and kissed her, soft and slow. “No regrets. No promises. Just fun.”

  He eased her back on the bed, tossed her towel aside, and proceeded to fulfill her wish for round two.

  * * *

  The next evening, Dean strode up to the bar in the small, beach-side restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was taking place, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe even months.

  If he’d known Carly Jensen was such a damn firecracker in bed, he’d probably have asked her out when they’d first met. But then she wouldn’t be working for him still, and they wouldn’t be friends. And the thought of not having her in his life . . . yeah, it plain sucked.

  But he wasn’t going to think about that. He was going to live in the moment and focus on enjoying his vacation and all the unexpected perks that came with it. Like having mind-blowing sex with Carly.

  Suffice it to say, the pillow wall had been demolished.

  “Two margaritas, please,” he said when the bartender nodded at him. Matt walked up to the bar, leaning his forearms on the shiny granite surface. He shot Dean a sidelong glance. A homicide detective in Seattle, Matt had a way of looking at a person that made him or her squirm. Even though he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, he felt the weight of his cousin’s gaze on him.

  “So. You and Carly, huh?” he asked, taking a sip of the beer the bartender had just placed in front of him.

  “Yep.”

  “Thought you didn’t date your employees.”