Sex Drive (22 page)

D
amien had to laugh.

Theresa’d jumped a mile when she heard his voice. She stared accusingly at him, where he lay in bed. “You startled me.”

Well, she had woken him with all her mumbling. But damn, she’d looked cute sitting there in his shirt, muttering at the computer screen between bursts of typing. He’d been propped up on pillows watching for at least ten minutes, with only his hard-on to keep him company. “If it counts for anything, I think you’re the best.”

“The best what?” She frowned in puzzlement.

“And I don’t think it’s shallow to want to be the best at whatever you do.”

Comprehension must have dawned because she raised both hands to cover her face and peeped out between the spread fingers. “I said that out loud?”

“Unless I read your mind.”

“Sorry. I woke you, didn’t I?”

“You, the sunshine, the fresh air. Be a shame to stay asleep and miss all that.” He patted the bed beside him. “Want to come over and say good morning properly?”

“I…” A quick glance out the lanai door. “Yes, but I’d also like to go for a run on the beach before it gets too hot.” She glanced back at him, and the way the sheet tented over his hard-on. “And if I sit down on that bed…”

“We both know what’s gonna happen.” And she was right, a run was a good idea. He’d enjoyed walking the beach with her yesterday, but his body was used to aerobic exercise every day, and it would be particularly welcome today. They were facing another relatively long plane flight, arriving around midnight.

In his ideal world, they’d have sex, then a run, then more sex. But the prof was in management mode. Besides, the sun was rising, the heat building outside, and no doubt tourists would soon be crowding the beach. “Yeah, let’s run. Got something you can wear?”

“I can go barefoot if we run on damp, packed sand. I’ll wear the top I bought yesterday over the bikini bottom.”

He groaned. “You don’t have a big sweatshirt or something? You’re gonna be way too distracting in an outfit like that.”

She beamed. “Sorry, that’s it. You’re just going to have to suffer.”

“You have a mean streak in you, Theresa Fallon.” He swung out of bed and got a small measure of revenge when she gaped hungrily at his hard-on. “Give me a couple minutes to get ready.” Then he headed for the loo.

When he came out, she was dressed in the outfit she’d described. The shirttails brushed the tops of her thighs, showcasing her long shapely legs and revealing an intriguing flash of green bikini bottom with each step she took. He whipped on a pair of running shorts, then pulled her against him for a quick but intense good morning kiss. The sight and feel of her had his cock growing again, so he said, “If we’re going, we better do it now.”

Both barefoot, they headed down in the elevator. Outside, they stretched in the shade, then set out at a jog, side by side, on the nearly empty morning beach. When they did pass walkers or other runners, everyone called a cheery “good morning.” A few colorful beach towels decorated the sand, and an occasional beach umbrella unfurled like a giant flower.

He let Theresa set the pace, and it was a respectable one. Not as fast as he’d have gone on his own, but enough to give him decent exercise. Though the sun was still low in the sky, heat and exertion were raising a sweat and he saw her face was damp, too. This was a fine start to the day, though he’d rather have woken with her in his arms. “What time did you get up, anyhow?”

“Not long before you. I checked e-mail. We’ve got a few details sorted out for the wedding. My sister Kat came up with a great idea for e-vites.”

“She’s the one in Montreal?”

“Yes. I told you she’s in PR, didn’t I? She’s great at her job. Creative as well as businesslike. If only she had better sense when it comes to her love life.” She speeded up a little.

He smothered a chuckle. A compliment and an insult, all in one breath.

After a few minutes, the sweat was dripping off him. “Man, I could use a swim.”

She glanced his way. “That would feel good. But it’s not ‘swimsuits optional’ this time. And no fooling around.”

“Aw, come on, there aren’t
that
many people on the beach,” he teased.

“Damien!”

He relented. “Nah, we don’t want to get arrested. Suits on, and just a swim. I promise.” He held up his hands. “Look, ma, no hands.”

Next thing he knew, she’d stopped jogging and was unbuttoning her shirt, pulling it off to reveal the sexy bikini she’d worn yesterday. She tossed her shirt to the sand, then stepped into the ocean, and he hurried to join her.

Together they splashed noisily into the water, which felt good on his overheated skin. He dove through a small wave and came up on the other side to find Theresa had disappeared. No, there she was, swimming in an awkward crawl parallel to the beach. He swam too, outdistancing her quickly, then coming back to meet up.

Breathless, she put her feet down and stood. “I told you I’m not very good.”

“Doesn’t matter. It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“Very. I usually run on a track on campus, so this is a treat.”

He glanced at his waterproof watch. “Hate to say it, but we should head back. We’ll want to eat breakfast before we go to the airport.” He winked. “And, since you don’t want to fool around on the beach, we gotta allow some time for that, too.”

“I’m very good at time management.” Today her eyes reflected the blue of ocean and sky, and sparkled like sunshine glinting off the water.

When they emerged onto the beach, she shook water out of her hair and wiped her face on her shirt. When she slipped into the shirt, it clung in all the right places. A fact he had ample opportunity to notice as they jogged back. By the time they arrived, she’d got him way hotter than the sun ever could.

Inside their room, both of them damp-skinned and breathing hard from the run, he pulled off her shirt, then untied the double-knotted strings of her bathing suit and stripped her naked. His erection was back and he shoved off his shorts as she sat cross-legged on the bed, watching.

He sat in the same position, facing her, then leaned forward to bury his nose in her shoulder. “Mmm, you smell like a jock.”

“Takes one to know one.” The words sounded automatic, but then she cocked her head as if reflecting. Expression bemused, she said, “This is so not like me.”

“Physical, intellectual, sexy. They’re all you.”

“I suppose they are,” she said thoughtfully, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to her before. Gently she touched his face. “Thank you, Damien.”

“Nah. Thank
you
.” Man, he was glad she’d agreed that they’d keep seeing each other back home in Sydney. Though he’d known her such a short time, no relationship had ever mattered so much before. He reached out to touch her, too. Petal-soft cheek, firm jaw, delicate neck, strong shoulder. Her nipples had beaded and he toyed with one, squeezing it gently.

“I like the way you touch me,” she murmured. “
All
the ways you touch me. Sometimes hard and fast, sometimes teasing, sometimes gentle.”

“I like touching you. You’re so beautiful and you feel so good.”

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “When you touch me, it’s like you’re…appreciating me.” Gently she skimmed her hand down his arm, barely touching it. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“Come sit on my lap,” he urged.

“The way we did on the plane? No, I want to see you.”

“That’s what I mean. Sit across my lap, facing me. No, wait a minute.” He reached for a condom, sheathed himself, then said, “Now.”

She straddled his thighs, half sitting, half kneeling, arms around his shoulders. Their bodies were still slick with sweat.

Between them, his cock rose. She slid forward to press her pussy against its base and he felt her steamy heat. He wanted to feel that fire from the inside, so he put his hands under her arse and lifted her until the tip of his cock probed her moist folds and began to slide in.

“Mmm, yes,” she said, wriggling to urge him on.

When he was fully embedded in her, she stopped squirming and they both sat still, gazing into each other’s eyes. Her sheath surrounded his hardness with melting heat, her breasts moved gently with each breath, her multicolored eyes were bright with passion. The longer he looked, the more he saw. Beyond the passion, there was something deeper. More significant. Affection?

He sure as hell hoped so, because he was falling for this woman.

She gazed back at him steadily, eyes searching his.

No wonder he’d never had a serious relationship. He’d been dating the wrong type of woman.

No, that wasn’t it. Theresa wasn’t a
type
, she was unique.

Her eyes sparkled, crinkled at the corners. “Damien? What are you thinking?”

He pumped his hips gently, caressing her from the inside out. “How special you are. How lucky I am.”

“Really?” A shadow crossed her face.

Didn’t she feel the same? Or was it that strange vulnerability again? He remembered her ex, and what she’d said about believing he’d been using her from the beginning and had never truly cared for her. “Really.” Couldn’t she read the truth in his eyes?

“This is all so new to me. I don’t have much experience with men.”

“I have a fair bit of experience with women, but this is new to me, too. We’ll have to figure it out as we go along.”

He knew he’d taken things another step. All he’d done before was sound her out about getting together in Sydney, and now he was letting her know she was special to him.

He didn’t regret it, though, because her eyes widened with pleased surprise. “I like that. I feel so naïve compared to you. It helps, knowing this is different for you. Knowing you’re not so confident, either.” Her internal muscles pulsed against him, tightening and releasing in small motions that felt like she was hugging his cock.

“Oh, I’m confident.” And suddenly he was. Theirs might be an attraction of opposites, but it was a powerful—and mutual—one. He gave her a big grin. “At least about some things. Like, that you and I are damned fine at making love together.” His choice of phrase was deliberate. No way was he going to label their joining as having sex.

Her internal muscles did that hugging thing. “We are.” Then she leaned forward and their mouths met in a tender kiss.

While their lips and tongues explored in soft, slow caresses, he held her loosely around her waist, her arms circled his back, and their lower bodies joined in a dance of subtle motions. Tiny movements—shifts, squeezes, the gentlest of thrusts—each barely more than a whisper, a breath, a contraction of muscle. Yet, with each one, his body grew more sensitized. So little stimulation, yet so focused and intense that Damien was painfully hard. He wanted to drive himself into her, to take them both to orgasm, yet he didn’t want this to end.

Theresa eased away from the kiss, breathing hard. Her eyes were half closed, her face and chest pink and glossed with sweat, her body taut with tension. She was on the edge, and he wanted her to climax. He reached down between their bodies and strummed her clit.

“Oh!” She let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure, then “oh!” even louder, and her sheath convulsed around him, sucking on him the way the waves ebbed and flowed on the beach.

It took all his self control to hold back from joining her in climax.

A few seconds later, her eyes opened, looking glazed. “Wow, that snuck up on me.” Her lips curved. “You give me the best orgasms, Damien.”

His body jerked in response. Oh hell, she’d just demolished all his willpower with a few simple words. Now his hips thrust harder, creating more friction as he slid in and out of her channel, feeling the way she gripped his shaft, then released, her movements matching his.

It felt like she was milking him. Drawing his passion, his energy, pulling it up from deep inside him, pulling it through him as he plunged into her.

She was whimpering, muttering, “Oh yes, just like that,” grinding herself against him, her motions as frenzied as his.

The explosion inside him was gathering, ready to release. He caressed her hot button again until she cried out. He gave an immense groan of pure satisfied joy and let go inside her.

For minutes afterward, they clung together, bodies still rocking, muscles still rippling with aftershocks. His emotions rippled with aftershocks, too. She got to him the way no one else ever had. He rested his sweaty forehead against hers. “Oh man, Tezzie.”

Half an hour later, he sat across from her at a table in the hotel restaurant. Theresa wore the same navy cotton pants as yesterday and a pale blue sleeveless blouse she’d bought on their shopping trip. She looked fresh and pretty, but he missed the bikini top and sarong, the black dress with all the buttons.

He remembered unbuttoning those buttons, tasting her, seeing her in the moonlight…

“Damien?”

Her voice called him back from the memory. He realized a waitress was waiting for his order. “What are you having, Theresa?”

“Fresh fruit and yogurt.”

To the waitress, he said, “The same, please. Plus bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.”

When their meals came, he insisted she share his. “It’s brunch. We’re not going to get decent food on the plane.”

As they both tucked in, he said, “Want to start me on that crash course? Comparing the situation with Canadian and American indigenous peoples to that in Australia?”

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

He tapped his head. “Nope. Good memory.”

“If you’re sure.” She began to talk, interspersing words and bites of food.

He listened, asked questions, made mental notes of points he considered particularly relevant. The conversation was so engrossing that, when the waitress came to clear their plates and he glanced at his watch, he exclaimed, “Damn, we’ve got to get going.”

Thank heavens he’d already checked out and checked their bags. He flipped American dollars onto the table, and five minutes later they were climbing into a cab and buckling up.

“This was nice,” she said, almost wistfully, as the taxi pulled away.

She was gazing out the window, and he studied her profile. “Very nice,” he agreed. He sensed she had the same growing realization that he did. The two of them made a damned fine team. What had started out being a sexual attraction had become much more. And every hour they were together, it got better, deeper, stronger, more complex.