Part 11 (1/2)

When we finally came up for air, I saw the huge grin he was wearing on his face. I was sure I looked just as dorky, smiling back at him. There was a huge part of me that still couldn't quite believe I was there with him, playing house, tangled in his arms. But I didn't question it. For the first time in my life, I'd gone for it. And the payoff had been even greater than I could've ever imagined. More importantly, Trip was happy, too.

Most importantly, we were happy together.

I looped my arms over his shoulders and asked, ”How was your day?”

His perfect, white teeth were still grinning at me, his eyes squinting from the sun. ”It was good. Except that I missed you.”

”Awww.”

”The meeting took forever. Man, that guy can talk.”

I knew his meeting was with some industry people that had been wooing him to be a part of their next production, but Trip didn't tell me much more beyond that. He was trying to focus more on his upcoming hockey film, and he was more irritated than flattered that they required his attention in the days leading up to it. Guess they wanted to nail him down as early as possible.

I knew the feeling.

”How'd it go?”

”Alright, I guess. I'm not the biggest fan of the director they've got lined up, but the script is pretty phenomenal. It could be big. I don't know.” He released his hold on me to lounge out on the steps, his elbows thrown over the edge of the pool. ”I told them I'd think about it in any case.”

He seemed almost embarra.s.sed talking about it. I guessed he was still getting used to the idea that he was so actively pursued by people other than h.o.r.n.y women.

Although, I was one such h.o.r.n.y woman at the moment. He wasn't quite out of those woods yet.

I sluiced through the water to where he was sitting and straddled him against the steps. ”I'm guessing you've got time on this. You still have an entire movie to film before you could even commit to starting it, right? Did they say they'd wait for you?”

I lowered my lips to his neck. I couldn't help it.

I felt his throat vibrate against my mouth as he answered with a contented, ”Hmmm.”

”Was that a yes?”

He put his hands at my hips and squirmed a little underneath me. ”Babe? You really think I've got my mind on work right now?”

Before I knew it, he'd wrapped an arm under my backside as he grabbed for the railing and hauled us both out of the water. I was giggling, my legs locked around his waist as he walked the few steps over to a chaise and laid me down on it, settling himself between my knees and lowering himself on top of me.

He kissed his way down my body and back up to my neck again, pulling my wet bikini top to the side of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Release the hounds!

He kissed me there, too, before trailing a line of kisses down my stomach, over my sides, his hair trickling droplets across my skin. He hooked his fingers into my bikini bottoms and slid them off... and then stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about the wax job on the way home.

His jaw gaped slightly as he stared at my nether regions, ironing a palm across the smooth skin at my pelvis. His eyes met mine in wonder. ”Holy s.h.i.+t.”

I laughed, but Trip looked rather serious, immediately pus.h.i.+ng my thighs apart and closing his mouth over the s.p.a.ce in between, as if he couldn't wait another second to lick me into oblivion.

Which he did.

Twice.

After a considerable amount of time spent making beautiful mouth-love to me on my pinkest parts, I lay there, my legs shaking, begging for him to stop. One more Tripgasm, and I was sure the neighbors would call the cops on us for disturbing the peace.

Because pieces of me were rather disturbed, let me tell you.

Ba-dum-dum. Tsss.

He was rather pleased with himself, sliding his body back up the length of mine, a wide, proud grin on his face. He raised an eyebrow and noted, ”You were speaking Swahili there for a second.” He sat back on his feet, cupping the front of his shorts with an expectant smirk. ”Now what are we gonna do about this thing?”

I didn't wait to be asked twice. I threw him onto his back and barely made with the preliminaries. I may have landed a few kisses down his torso on the way to his shorts, reaching in and pulling him out. I know the typical b.l.o.w.j.o.b 101 Handbook recommends starting with some ice-cream-cone maneuvers, but I didn't bother with such trivialities. I opened my jaw over that thing and took him as far as my mouth would allow, sliding my lips back up as I suctioned my cheeks, gripping him with my hand at the base.

”What the... Wha- f.u.c.k! Lay!”

Ha! I repeated the motion, and Trip almost floundered off the chaise. I saw his fingers in a white-knuckle grip against the cus.h.i.+on, felt his hips rising to match the movements of my mouth. He was hard as a rock, that beautiful, magical limb of his pointing north like a sundial. I estimated it to be close to six o'clock.

My body was still Jell-O, but I guess I had some strength left in my mouth. I worked that thing with more determination than a shop-vac on Tool Time.

Every downstroke of my hand was closely followed by my lips; every suck on the way up had him begging for mercy. My other hand wrapped around to mind the stepchildren-You. Must. Mind. The Stepchildren-and the groan he let out just then made me want to high-five myself.

He clenched his teeth, sputtering out a string of half-words and addressing our Lord and savior in a most sacrilegious way before letting out with a booming growl as he lurched, practically folding in half over me as he shot to the back of my throat, his throbbing c.o.c.k pulsing against my tongue.

That's when I remembered I wasn't a swallower and had to pull a Blink 182 naked run for the outdoor bar sink. Cla.s.sy.

I washed up and rinsed out, then wrapped myself in a towel. I darted into the house to get dressed and check on dinner, then came back outside to Trip, who'd managed to pull up his shorts before pa.s.sing out in the sun. I took a moment to appreciate the dazzling G.o.d lying there. He was so beautiful and perfect, even while practically snoring away like an actual mortal. It was hard to remember that he was, in fact, human. That gorgeous crop of golden hair, that chiseled body, those inviting, full lips just begging to be kissed... d.a.m.n. I'm so wrong. Please disregard what I just said about him being human.

I went in the house to get dinner finished and plated. By the time I brought everything out, he was awake and doing laps in the pool. You'd think by looking at him that he was just born that beautiful. And he was. Genes definitely were very generous to that man. But the truth was, he worked really hard to look that good. A body like that doesn't come naturally. Even back in high school, hockey kept him in shape during the winter and jogging kept him fit the rest of the year. I stood there for a moment and watched him, pus.h.i.+ng himself to go faster, harder. Testing his body to its limit. I knew he must've spent a fair amount of time in his private gym downstairs-so I apologize if I'm shattering any myths about him right here-because no one looks that good by accident.

He hauled himself out of the water, gave a shake to his head, and dried off with a towel before throwing on an Atari T-s.h.i.+rt and meeting me at the table. I'd made a London broil and a mesclun salad with some new potatoes dressed in a dill vinaigrette and a side basket of ”homemade” biscuits to round it out. (Okay, fine. They were from a can.) He appraised the spread on the table and gave me an enthusiastic, ”Wow, this looks great!”

Then the sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d announced that he was heading inside to grab the ketchup.

He came out, the bottle swinging triumphantly from his fingers as I warned, ”You are not putting ketchup on that meat.”

He just ignored me, singing ”You're So Vain” as he slathered a dollop on the side of his plate.

”Ummm... wrong song, f.u.c.ktard.”

I was stunned, watching as he sliced off a hunk of London Broil and dipped it into the glob before looking right into my eyes-a victorious gleam in his-as he chewed.

”I don't know if we can stay together anymore,” I busted. ”Ketchup on steak? That just might be a dealbreaker.”

Chapter 16.

SHOW ME.

The next morning, I had barely opened my eyes when Trip came busting through the door whistling some unrecognizable tune, and I couldn't quite find it in me to raise my head yet. Even though I rarely slept-in, it still normally took me a few minutes to ease into my morning. But it looked as though Trip was apparently an even earlier riser than me.