In the Bad Boy's Bed (3 page)

"No, the zipper . . . there's a zipper." My mouth left his just long enough to deliver the command in a urgent, rough with need tone.

"Thank, God," he whispered. "I was about to take the switchblade to those buttons."

Nerves triggered a little giggle that pushed past my lips. "It's in the back."

His hands moved to my back, sliding up and down, feeling for the zipper. I lifted my hair so he could easily unzip. My dress fell away, baring my back to the night air and to his kisses, which started low and moved up to my neck. Chills washed over me, cooling my skin and hardening my nipples.

He turned me around to face him and slowly pulled my dress down to reveal my nearly nude front. He looked at my body for a long few seconds as if he were worshiping it . . . or having a difficult time deciding where to start. His rounded his hands over my shoulders and gently, lightly, ran them along the length of my arms. He leaned forward and kissed me, building the fire higher.

Didn't he know I was already ready for him? Had been for two years, since the first time I saw him?

I grabbed the edge of his T-shirt and tugged it up. I had it up as far as his chest when he pulled it off and flung it aside. I reached for the button on his jeans and he leaned back a bit to give me easier access. My fingers fumbled a bit before they could pry the button from its hole, but as a reward for my persistence, the zipper slid down easily. His white boxers shone like a beacon in the moonlight.

Still Nick paused and looked at me as if asking,
are you sure?
In answer, I placed his fingers on the front clasp of my bra. A flick of his fingers took the bra off. In little time, I wore nothing but moonlight and Nick Donnelly's branding kisses and touches.

With his head resting on my chest and the warmth of his breath drying the sex sheen, I didn't worry over the fact that I had shared the most intimate act two people can share with someone who was little more than a stranger. I didn't worry about the consequences of my impulsive action. The extreme peace and utter satisfaction each of us had given the other filled me, pushing out all other feelings. Trailing my hands lightly up and down his back, I thought that if I could have kept him here, in this spot, forever, I would have.

As if hearing my thoughts, he raised his face to mine and gazed into my eyes. Then he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me until I was again begging for him to make me his.

The night tucked the edges of her dark, warm blanket around our cooling bodies, embracing us as we clung to each other, the sound of the river lapping the shore lulling us into a light daze. The mosquitoes forced us up. Amid silent, longing looks we helped each other dress. If I died at this moment, I could say that I had known the sweet taste of happiness. It was being with Nick Donnelly.

* * * * *

The wind twisted the ends of my hair up and my heart rode high in my throat as we traveled the dark streets of town on his motorcycle. Even though we took the long way home, all too soon we arrived at my house.

Nick cut the engine a few houses from mine and coasted to the entrance of the driveway before braking. I got off the bike then climbed back on, facing him. Our arms around each other, we whispered, nuzzled, and kissed in the darkness.

"Thank you for tonight," I murmured against his neck, unable to find the will or the strength to leave his arms.

"My pleasure," he whispered back, and found my lips to plant a kiss.

"I hope you . . . . It's important to me that you know that I don't normally do this sort of thing." I kissed him back.

"What sort of thing—make out on a Kawasaki?" He sucked at my bottom lip, which no longer hurt.

"Yeah . . . I'm a Harley chick."

He chuckled at my lame joke.

I shifted my face away from his searching lips and directed a serious look toward him.

"What I mean is, I don't make love with guys I don't know. I mean, I've only been with . . . really, I'm not a . . . ." For some stupid reason, I felt tears burning my eyes. I lowered my head.

"I know what you meant," he said, kissing my forehead, the top of my cheek, the corner of my eye, "and I know you're not."

"How do you know?" My question was labored—he had moved on to nibbling the delicate dangling flesh of my earlobe, sending chills down my spine. "We don't know each other." I spoke slowly. It was hard work this talking thing when my brain was rushing signals of incoming hot pleasure to all parts of my body and blocking out all instructions such as breathing and talking.

"Everything about you screams 'good girl'." His voice was low and as seductive as the feel of his lips traveling down my neck and across the strip of skin left bare from where the top few buttons of my dress were still open.

My fingers curled in his hair to hold his head and searching mouth and tongue close to me.

I didn't feel like the good girl with him. "Mmm. I can't get enough of you." My words danced out in a voice full of rapture.

His lips found mine and he kissed me fully, sensuously. Then he pulled back, looked at me and cupped my face in his hands. Moonlight flickered in his eyes and answered the whisper I was hearing all through my body.

"Come home with me Angel," he said softly. "I'll spend the rest of the night making love to you."

"And fulfilling my desires?"

"Every one of 'em."

"I bet you could," I said huskily.

"Or have fun trying," he replied and sweetened the offer with another convincing kiss. His hands, which had been around my waist, dropped lower to rest on my thighs.

They crept beneath my dress and slowly inched their way up my legs as he kissed me. My panties had been sacrificed to line the nests of the little critters that lived on the river bank, so Nick's wandering fingers had green-light access to the wetness between my legs.

He brushed his thumbs lightly against me, pleasuring me, and I leaned into his touch. I drew in a quick breath when one thumb gently circled the sensitive spot standing at attention just above the entry.

"You're not making it easy to say no." The words sounded like they came from a person groggy from sleep or drink.

"Then say yes," he prompted and stopped his hands.

Every nerve in my body screamed 'yes, yes, just don't stop!' but the small part of my brain that was not fogged over retained control of the unruly crowd. I leaned into him and hugged him.

"I can't. My parents would kill me if I stayed out all night."

"With me."

"With anyone." I was quick to answer because I knew what he was implying.

His hands retreated to a safer place around my waist, and he was quiet for a moment.

"I can't change your mind?" he said finally, and kissed me.

"Yeah, you could. Especially if you keep kissing me like that." We were both going to have swollen lips tomorrow.

"I'd keep kissing you like that forever if there was a chance it would change your mind."

"Nick, I told you . . . my parents . . . ."

He sighed and scratched his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "Is that all that's keeping you from me?"

His tone pushed me back a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"When we see each other at school, are you going to run into my arms and kiss me like you kissed me tonight, or are you going to look away and act like you don't know me?"

His blunt questioning shot through my heart, knocking me out of his arms and off the bike. I knew myself. While I would want to choose his arms and kisses, what I would do was choose to look away. The separate worlds we lived in wouldn't allow anything else. But still I hesitated, not wanting to give my answer even while knowing it had to be done.

"That's what I thought," he said at my silence.

I wanted to say something more, something to ensure the last moments of our magical night wouldn't simply disappear in the dark to be lost forever. Something like, carry me away on the back of your bike and make good on your vow to satisfy my every desire. But I couldn't bring myself to speak those words, so instead I said, reluctantly, the words that would be the beginning of the end of this night.

"I better go inside."

"Yeah, I guess you'd better."

Before I had half turned to go in, Nick left the bike, grabbed my hand, and pulled me back to him. Sliding his arms around my waist, he clutched my body to his one last time. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tight, possessing him the way he possessed me.

"Angel." He whispered my name and buried his head in my neck.

"Nick," I said with a groan when I felt his teeth nipping my skin, "kiss me again."

He didn't disappoint me. I hungrily took his feel, his touch, his kisses, and gave back in equal portions, causing the fire still burning inside me to flame. I pressed against his hardness but it only served to swell my hunger rather than calm it.

Gently, reluctantly, and all too soon he broke the kiss and dipped his forehead to touch with mine. I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting the sweetness of his mouth that still clung to them. His arms released their power hold on me but remained draped loosely around my hips, allowing me free passage whenever I wanted. In silence we stood, glued to each other. Now and then he dropped a kiss on my cheek, the bridge of my nose, my forehead, the corner of my eye, my chin, my lips. And I let him, encouraged him.

I didn't want to move away from him or from these fresh new feelings that, now awakened, demanded attention – the kind of attention that only he could give. I was completely content, wrapped in our circle of warmth and passion. I knew that what we had shared could not last beyond the moment I left his arms, so I was going to wring out every last bit of pleasure I could.

"Come with me, Angel," he beckoned again. "You know you want to."

"Yes, I do want to, more than anything. But I can't."

He hung his head for a minute then looked up but not directly at me.

"Alright," he said and slowly removed his arms from around me. I felt the cold immediately rush in around me, though the night air was warm.

Our eyes met and held. He reached out and ever so lightly stroked a thick strand of my hair between his finger and thumb, brushing the side of my face with his thumb. I grabbed his hand and nuzzled my cheek against it, then pressed a kiss into his palm. It smelled like our sex.

"See you, Angel." He removed his hand from mine and climbed onto his bike. With a quick touch of his fingers and flick of his wrist, the cycle kicked to life, and he rocked the bike to move up the kickstand.

At the loud grumble of the bike, the front door opened and my parents, both dressed in their robes and slippers, marched like soldiers out to the end of the driveway where Nick and I had parked. The stretched looks on their faces told me they were not happy; their words confirmed it.

"Angela, where the hell have you been?"

"We've been worried to death."

"Are you OK?"

"Why didn't you call?"

The questions came at me so rapid-fire fast I couldn't respond to any of them. Every time I tried, the other parent would fire a new question at me. I shot a "kill me now" glance at Nick, who wore a little grin on his face and seemed to be enjoying the scene.

"Mom, Dad. Please . . . . one question at a time."

Dad, ever the aggressive, take-charge lawyer, spoke first. "Sean called us, frantic, saying that you jumped out of the car and ran off, and he hadn't been able to find you."

Mom, standing slightly behind Dad, arms crossed, chimed in. "What would possess you to do something like that, Angela? We raised you to have better sense."

I found an open spot and charged in. "Sean was drunk and being a jerk. Did he mention that when he called to tattle on me?"

Silence fell over our odd little group, and I could see my parents struggling with how to process the information I had given them. I couldn't tell whether that meant they were having trouble believing that the prince they had chosen for their princess was really a warty toad, or just having trouble believing my version of the night's events. They stared at me, then at Nick, then at each other.

"Let's take this discussion inside." Dad took my one arm, Mom the other, and they ushered me toward the house.

I broke free and went back to Nick, despite their quick protests.

"Thanks for everything. Sorry about the parents," I whispered.

"Bet you wish you'd gone home with me," he whispered back in a teasing voice.

I nodded.

"Ask me nice and you can still come."

We stared into each other's eyes, saying our final goodbye. Then he shifted the bike into gear and, with a tip of his chin, rode off into the night. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the darkness swallow him.

"Take me with you, Nick," I whispered, but it was too late. He was gone.

Despite the warmth of the late summer night, I shivered, feeling suddenly cold without his arms and kisses to warm me. My heart was as silent and deserted as the empty street.

"Angela . . . I said now!" Dad's voice was firm as if he'd been insistent for some time.

After Nick disappeared around the corner, I sighed and turned toward the firing squad. I walked past my parents and into the house. It didn't take them long to start the questioning again, and this time it was about Nick.

"Who was that boy and why were you riding on his motorcycle?" Dad asked.

"Did he do that to your dress?" Mom asked, her eyes wide with worry as they swept over my ripped dress.

"His name is Nick Donnelly. We go to school together. He gave me a ride home after Sean stranded me at the river. Because of Nick, I wasn't walking the dark streets alone. I'd think you'd be a little more grateful to him instead of assuming he had attacked me and ripped my dress."

Mom's face went ghostly pale. She tightened the belt at her silk robe and pulled the collar more firmly in place over her chest. "Did you say, Nick Donnelly?"

At my nod, she touched her hand to her face and slumped against Dad as if she were feeling faint. Dad put his arm around her but continued his tirade as if it were a normal occurrence for her to faint against him, like women in old movies always did.