Bayside Escape, page 10
He clutched her hips and lowered his mouth to her inner thigh in a series of openmouthed kisses. She spread her legs wider, an invitation he wasn’t about to ignore. He ran his finger beneath the edge of her panties, lifting the damp center and moving it to the side. The sweetness of her arousal sent bolts of lightning to his cock.
“Fuck, baby. I have never forgotten the taste of you.”
He kissed the sensitive skin just beside her glistening lips, and she inhaled a sharp breath. The sexy sound brought his mouth to her again and again, in one greedy kiss after another. He knew how to make her come with a slip of his finger or a suck in just the right place, but he couldn’t let go of the fear of waking up to an empty bed.
It was that unsettled monster inside him that made him release her panties, climb over her, and gaze into her confused eyes.
Need radiated off her as she panted out, “Why’d you stop?”
“If we go further, if I fall asleep with you in my arms, how do I know you won’t be gone in the morning?”
“Because this time I know the consequences of loving you.” Her brow wrinkled and she said, “I’m a nervous wreck, but only because I know how I’ll lose myself in you, and I don’t want to slow down.”
His head fell forward with her confession, and her name slipped from his lips like a prayer. “Daisy…”
“That’s normal, right? To be nervous about that?” She looked away and said, “Fuck me sideways. Did I just ruin this?”
He turned her face so he could see her eyes and said, “No. You just made it even better.”
“Jesus. I thought I fucked up. Maybe you should love me until I’m too tired to move.”
He laughed and kissed her deeply. “You know how I love a challenge.”
“But I need you to do me a favor first.”
“Break your kissing-only rule? Done.”
She shook her head and pushed at his chest. “On your back, big boy.”
He rolled onto his back and she pulled off his briefs. His arousal sprang up to greet her. There was no more beautiful sight than watching Violet love him. The memories of the look of pleasure that came over her as she loved him with her mouth and hands had played in his mind so many times while they were apart, the scent of jasmine could conjure them.
She settled her legs between his and perched above him. Her hair fell around their faces. Her brow wrinkled and she said, “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Never mind. Just close your eyes.”
He did, and she began kissing her way down his chest and abs. Her fingers circled his shaft, and she licked him from base to tip, drawing a moan from deep inside him. His eyes opened, and he watched her. Her eyes were closed as she lowered her mouth over his cock, sucking and working him with her hand. The sensual sounds she made drove him mad.
He fisted his hands and ground out, “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” She sucked harder, and he said, “That’s it. God, baby, your mouth is magic.”
She withdrew his shaft from her mouth and said, “Stop saying sweet shit.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flamed. “Because it turns me to mush, and I can’t drive you crazy when you do that to me.”
“I’m hard as stone, babe. Apparently you drive me crazy when you’re mushy, so we’re good.”
She glared at him, and he chuckled.
When she lowered her mouth over his shaft again, taking him to the back of her throat, his hips bucked and he buried his hands in her hair. “That’s it, baby. Jesus, you feel incredible.”
She stopped cold, glowering at him.
“I can’t help it,” he said with a laugh. “Sweet shit just comes out. What do you want me to say—take it all, bitch?”
She shot him a death glare.
“There’s no middle of the road, babe. I love you, so you get what you get.”
“Fuck it. Whatever.” She grabbed his shirt from the floor and said, “Am I going to have to gag you?”
In one swift move he swept her beneath him and came down over her, both of them laughing.
“You blew it with all your nice talk,” she said with a laugh. “I wanted to rock your world.”
“You rock my world by just being. No more hiding. I like my mushy Violet as much as I like my fierce Violet. Now, sweetheart”—he kissed her hard and deep—“I’m going to make love to you good and hard, and I’m going to say sweet shit until you surrender to your inner softness. Got it?”
VIOLET TRIED TO suppress her smile, but it broke free as she said, “Surrender my ass.”
His eyes darkened and he said, “Careful, babe.” He dipped his head, teasing her breasts again. “That sounds an awful lot like an invitation.”
She opened her mouth to give a snarky response, but it turned into a stream of indiscernible sounds as he stripped off her panties and loved her with his mouth and hands, taking her right up to the peak of madness, whispering as he held her there, “You’re so sweet, my love. I missed you.”
His tender words made everything feel more intense, more loving, unfurling the knots of aggression that had been her constant companion, her armor, for as long as she could remember.
Except when she was with Andre.
She struggled to hold on to the edginess she’d hidden behind for so long, but his love was too powerful, her desire for him inescapable. He feasted on her quivering sex, his emotions pouring out heatedly like a beautiful cascading river, “I love the way you taste, the way you move,” and her need for control fell away. She surrendered to their love, fisting her hands in the sheets. Her heels dug into the mattress with every slick of his tongue, every tender word he said. And when he stroked over the hidden spot that made her cry out his name, her thoughts shattered and she rode the waves of their passion. She clawed at his shoulders as he masterfully took her from one orgasm to the next, staying with her through the very last tremor.
She fell limply to the mattress, breathing hard as he kissed her thighs, and panted out, “Andre, I can’t wait. Make love to me.”
When he moved to the side of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer, she put her hand over his, feeling him trembling a little, too, as she said, “What are you doing?”
“I bought condoms—”
“We didn’t use one before. Do I need to worry that you’ll put me at risk?”
“Fuck, no. I’d never do that to you. I just didn’t want to assume you were okay going without one.”
She pulled him down over her and smiled up at him. “You’re the only man I’ve ever been okay with not using a condom. Now, hurry up and remind me why.”
“I’ve waited years for a moment I never thought would come,” he said huskily. “There’s no way I’m rushing through anything with you.”
The loving look in his eyes made her tingly all over. He aligned their bodies, leaning on his forearms as he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her deeply. She lifted her hips, and as he pushed into her, all her broken pieces came back together. When he was buried to the root, she felt her entire body exhale.
She wrapped her arms around him and said, “Stay right there. I missed you so much. I just want to feel you, feel us, for a minute, like this.”
He brushed his lips over hers and said, “You’re never going to be able to escape the feel of us again.”
A LONG WHILE later Violet lay in Andre’s strong arms, listening to the peacefulness of his breathing. Even after all their time apart, his sounds were comfortingly familiar. She moved carefully out from his arms and sat on the edge of the bed, taking stock of her emotions. She eyed their clothing strewn across the floor, his shirt bunched up at the head of the bed where she’d dropped it after threatening to gag him. She smiled, looking at the patient, determined man who was unwilling to let her hide behind her aggression. He really was beautiful, inside and out. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then she climbed off the bed and padded softly to the bathroom.
When she returned, he was still fast asleep.
She glanced at the bedroom door, and her pulse quickened. How did I ever leave you? She slipped into bed beside him and pulled the covers up over them. He made a sleepy sound as his arm circled her waist, pulling her tight against him.
“You didn’t leave,” he said sleepily, lacing his fingers with hers.
She snuggled deeper into the curve of his body and said, “Why would I leave when I finally realized this is the one place I belong most?”
Chapter Eight
VIOLET LOOKED UP from the fruit she was cutting in the kitchen of the inn and watched Andre flip a pancake. He looked delicious in a pair of jeans and a forest-green shirt. She still couldn’t believe this was really happening—he was real, and there, and he didn’t hate her. That was good, because she probably carried enough self-loathing for both of them. She must have been out of her mind to leave him behind.
He glanced over as he placed a heap of bacon on a stack of paper towels and winked, unleashing a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d woken up at dawn to his tender kisses and his cavity-evokingly sweet whispers. God, how I love them. They’d lain in bed kissing and talking for more than an hour before deciding to surprise Desiree and Rick with breakfast before they left for their honeymoon.
She set the plate of fruit aside, thinking about the boxes of art supplies in Andre’s cottage, and said, “After breakfast I’ll show you my studio upstairs. Maybe you can put your stuff up there and we can share the space.” She heard Desiree and Rick talking and grabbed two mugs from a cabinet.
“Good morning,” Violet said as they came into the kitchen holding hands. They looked happier than she’d ever seen them, which said a lot, because they were two of the happiest people she knew.
“Whoa.” Desiree’s gaze drifted over the platters of pancakes, fruit, bacon, and eggs. “Am I in the right house?”
Rick grinned and lowered his voice as he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Violet cook,” as if his comment were meant for Desiree’s ears only.
“I’m not cooking.” Violet nodded at Andre and said, “That’s what he’s for.”
“Violet wanted to surprise you before you left for your honeymoon,” Andre explained.
Violet looked away, but not before noticing the sentimental look in her sister’s eyes.
“You wanted to surprise us?” Desiree walked into Violet’s line of sight, studying her face. “You’re smiling, too. Oh, Violet!” She threw her arms around her and said, “Your happiness is the best wedding present ever!”
Violet wriggled out of her arms, and Rick chuckled. Violet glared at him. “You’re egging her on. You know that, don’t you?”
“She loves you, Vi. It’s a beautiful thing. Besides, we’re leaving right after breakfast, so I have to get my pestering in now.” Rick snagged a piece of bacon and leaned against the counter beside Andre. “Buddy, this is awesome. Thank you. And thank you, Violet, for being so thoughtful.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “How about making yourself useful and carrying breakfast out to the table before the vultures arrive.”
“Too late!” Emery said as she and Dean came through the kitchen door, both wearing workout clothes. “We’re here and…Holy moly. Violet hasn’t scared Andre off yet?”
Violet thrust the plate of fruit into her hands. “Fill that trap with fruit or knuckles. Your choice.”
“You’re all bark, no bite.” Emery giggled as she carried the fruit outside.
“Hey, man,” Dean said to Andre. “Does the whole delicious-breakfast-incredible-sex thing carry over to everyone who stays at Summer House?”
Rick and Desiree laughed.
“Fuck,” Violet mumbled, noticing the confusion in Andre’s eyes. She handed Dean the platter of pancakes and said, “No, it does not.” She handed Rick a plate of eggs and pointed to the door. “Out.”
“I’m going,” Rick said, and then he and Desiree carried platters of food outside, leaving Violet and Andre alone. Finally. She hadn’t counted on taking shit from the gossip girls.
Andre wrapped his arms around her and said, “You look hot in purple.”
She looked down at her dark purple tank top. “Thanks.”
“But pink looks better on you.” He kissed her cheek, and only then did she realize her cheeks were warm and probably flushed. “What did he mean by delicious-breakfast-incredible-sex thing?”
“Desiree loves to cook, but when she and Rick take fuckery to the next level, she makes breakfasts that could make a dead man weep.”
A slow grin spread across Andre’s face. “In that case, I’ll have to up my game.”
“You up your game any more and I won’t be able to walk.” They’d made love three times last night, and she was sore in places she didn’t know could hurt.
His eyes narrowed and he said, “I meant my breakfast game.” He grabbed her ass and slanted his mouth over hers.
“Get a room,” Chloe said as she came into the kitchen. “I’m just grabbing coffee. Hey, Andre, you don’t happen to have a single brother hanging around anywhere, do you?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I hear Justin is single.”
Chloe poured her coffee. “No thanks. I’ve done the bad-boy thing. I’m holding out for someone who smiles once in a while.”
Andre laced his fingers with Violet’s and said, “Sometimes you’ve got to fight for smiles, but that just makes them that much more special.”
“Oh God,” Violet said as Chloe took her coffee out the door. “Can you please not say that sappy stuff about me?”
“Who says I was talking about you?” He chuckled at her deadpan stare. “Like I said last night, you’re not going to scare me off, and I’m not going to change how I show my love for you. So you’d better get used to being mushy most of the time.”
“Most of the time? Sounds horrifying.”
“You love it. Besides…” He backed her up against the wall and boxed her in with his hard body. His eyes turned raven black as he ground his hips against hers and fisted one hand in her hair. “I said most of the time. I’ve seen your softer side, and it’s as much a part of you as the badass woman you show everyone else. Once you stop fighting what you really feel and allow yourself to be mushy and loved like you did when we were overseas—when I know you’re all in—we’re going to let rough-and-wild Violet out to play—gags, silk ties, whatever you want, baby. I’m all yours.”
ANDRE LOVED HAVING breakfast with Violet and her friends. The girls were hilarious, relentlessly teasing her about how domestic she’d become, which of course parlayed into jokes about their sex life. Violet took it all in stride, ignoring most of their comments and tossing in enough snarky barbs of her own to put them in their places. Rick and Desiree shared their honeymoon plans, and Drake and Dean asked Andre if he’d like to go running with them in the mornings. Emery insisted he and Violet join her for yoga at some point—unless it interfered with their ability to make breakfast, of course. It was easy to see why Violet had finally been able to settle down enough to stay put.
It was one of the most enjoyable mornings he’d had in a very long time, made even better because it had started out by waking up with Violet in his arms. But this morning had also brought to light things about Violet that he hadn’t recognized when they were overseas, like the fact that she didn’t seem to like to be hugged by anyone other than him and—he reluctantly admitted—Justin. And she didn’t take credit for anything she did. It went much further than simply not signing her artwork. He felt bad for Rick and Desiree. Violet had given them each a quick hug when they were saying their goodbyes, and she acted like she wasn’t going to miss them. Then she’d stood at the end of the driveway with a mix of happiness and longing in her eyes, watching them drive away. She didn’t leave that spot until their car had disappeared around the corner. She wasn’t fooling him. She was definitely going to miss them, despite the way she’d announced, Finally. Now we have the inn all to ourselves for three and a half weeks. Except maybe for breakfasts, when the moochers will be back.
As he followed her upstairs to her pottery studio, he thought about how she hadn’t taken credit for planning to surprise Desiree and Rick with breakfast. That brought his thoughts back to something Steph had said last night at the coffeehouse. She’d told him that Violet had dropped everything to help Rowan with Joni many times and that she had become a surrogate sister to Steph. Steph had explained that her younger sister, Bethany, had been Ashley’s best friend, and when they’d lost Ashley, Bethany had lost herself in drugs. Steph’s sister had been in and out of her life ever since, and apparently Violet had been a godsend, stepping in to help her deal with the roller coaster of emotions her sister’s visits evoked.
As much as he would have liked to have learned those things from Violet, he had a feeling it would take an act of God for her to pat herself on the back. Trusting him enough to bring him into the secret world she kept hidden from everyone, including her own sister, had been a huge step. Even after just a few days it was clear how much her friends on both sides adored her. He just wished their breakup hadn’t caused her to create such a divide in her daily life.
“Here it is,” she said as he pushed open the studio door.
Bright light flooded the large, high-ceilinged studio. Incense hung in the air, mixing with the smell of clay and paint. He followed her into the unfinished room. His gaze was immediately drawn to the chaos of works in progress to his right, where several wooden tables were littered with clay vases, cups, pencil holders, tools, and sketches. They were as familiar as the woman who made them. Old newspapers and magazines were scattered about tabletops and on the hardwood floor beside a mass of canvas tarps. Fabric was piled high on a round table by a bay of nearly floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and batiks were draped over long wooden bars that hung from ropes tied to exposed rafters in the ceiling. A few wooden chairs were strewn throughout that side of the room, each one boasting dried clay streaks left behind by the artist’s hand.
