Don't Deny Me Read online

  “There’s my girl,” Mick whispered against her mouth.

  His foot pushed against the ground to get the swing rocking again. The hand on her breast moved down between her legs, pushing her thighs apart slow, slow, slow, so that she had time to tell him to stop. And she thought about it, knowing this path they were taking was probably going to end up causing trouble, but in that moment no longer able to care.

  Match to gasoline, that’s what Mick had always been to her. Should, would, could—there were a hundred thousand heartbeats between now and the last time they’d kissed, but it didn’t matter. She was touching that hot stove again with fingertips already scarred from the blisters.

  He didn’t have to move. The motion of the swing pressed his knuckles to her again and again, just enough pressure each time to build up the pleasure before easing off. When she gasped, he laughed against her lips before kissing her again.

  It went on and on, every sensation weaving together. The breeze and far-off cries of night birds. The water splashing on the rocks. The creak of the chains against the tree’s branch. Mick’s low moan when she unbuckled his belt to free him. His sharp gasp when she slipped a hand inside to stroke his erection. The sound of his desire added a fresh layer to her own.

  It had always been like this with him. Knowing how to move. Where to touch. How hard, how soft, how fast or slow. She was on the edge within minutes and stayed on it for an hour, as every so often he’d push the swing again to keep them going.

  You’re a fool, her mind said. Idiot. Resist, her heart urged. You’re only going to regret it! Head and heart for once were in agreement, but it was another part of her anatomy altogether that kept her going. At last, unable to keep herself from it, Alice pulled her mouth from Mick’s and bent to take his cock instead. The angle was awkward, the swing not the most comfortable seat, but just as Mick had used the rocking to arouse her, now Alice was able to do the same. All she had to do was take him inside her mouth while the swing moved him in and out.

  He muttered her name. One hand fisted into her hair. The other stayed between her legs though he’d managed now to slide a finger underneath the edge of her panties—plain cotton. If she’d known this was going to happen, she’d have worn silk or lace. She should’ve known. She was so wet that one finger slipped inside her without friction.

  Mick pushed. The swing rocked. His finger moved in and out of her in the same rhythm that her mouth moved on his cock. They were completely in sync.

  He said her name again, like a warning this time. With another smile she bent back to him again as her climax rippled through her. Her body clutched at his fingers as she took him in deep. Not letting go. The sound of Mick’s hoarse shout as he came sent another wave of orgasm washing over her.

  Body aching from being contorted into positions that hadn’t been painful when she’d been distracted by pleasure, Alice sat up. The taste of him lingered; she leaned to kiss him and he sucked gently on her tongue before pulling away to look into her eyes.

  “Whoa,” Mick said.

  Alice laughed.

  “I mean, that was … whoa.”

  She swatted him lightly, a little embarrassed but mostly pleased. “Stop.”

  He pulled her close to kiss her again. “Never.”

  It was something he’d have told her way back then, so Mick, so familiar, and yet suddenly so unwelcome because it reminded her of broken promises and betrayal. She didn’t yet regret what had happened, but she figured that was on its way. She sat back. He did, too, maybe feeling the way she did or maybe just sensing her discomfort.

  “It’s late,” Alice told him. “We should get inside.”

  * * *

  Whenever I see any of them, I always think of you. I can’t help it. I mean, I would never have met you if I hadn’t been invited to Bernie’s house. You and I became so much more, and now it looks like we’ve turned into something so much less … but that never stops me from remembering you when I’m hanging out with them. They’ve stopped asking me about you, though. I guess they learned not to, maybe by my expression or how I find a way to change the subject when your name comes up. The worst part of it is, they were your friends first. And because of me, you lost them. They’d never say it, but maybe you would, if you’d only still talk to me, Alice. But you never answer me, so I guess that means you plan to never speak to me again.

  I’m sorry for that, to have taken something away from you that meant a lot. But mostly I’m sorry that whatever I did made you hate me so much you’d be willing to give up the people who love you more than I could.

  —Mick to Alice, unsent

  * * *

  “Morning.” Paul had always been an early riser like Mick. “Coffee?”

  Mick helped himself to a mug from the cupboard and held it out for the other man to fill. Bernie had put out some trays of pastries and breakfast breads last night, though later he’d be making an enormous brunch. At the moment, running on only two hours of sleep, Mick thought coffee was more than plenty.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a great day.” Paul went to the French doors to look out. “Can’t wait to hit the lake. You in?”

  “Yeah. Probably.” Mick sipped the sweet, rich coffee with a small sigh and leaned against the counter. “Sounds good.”

  Paul looked at him over his shoulder with a grin. “Need a little hair of the dog? I brought some Baileys.”

  Mick wasn’t hungover, at least not from drinking too much. He was suffering from a severe case of Alice withdrawal, something no morning shot of liquor was going to fix. He imagined he could still taste her, smell her, feel her. He’d dreamed of her in the brief and fitful sleep he’d managed after finally drifting off. Jumbled images of her smile, her body, scenes from the past along with things that had never happened.

  “Nah, man. I’m good.” He lifted the coffee. “Just tired.”

  Paul rolled his neck on his shoulders. “I hear you. We’re all getting fucking old, man. Used to be we’d be up until dawn and still manage to spend the day doing all kinds of stuff. Now if I’m not in bed by ten, I pay for it all the next day.”

  “Nobody was in bed last night before ten.” Mick looked over the breakfast tray, at last considering a bagel with cream cheese, but not quite up to the effort of actually toasting one.

  “Nobody’ll be out of bed before ten, either.” Paul laughed. “Hey. It’s good to see you, man. It’s been what. A year? Two?”

  “Denver. Two winters ago.” A bunch of them had gotten together for a weekend ski trip, not quite as extravagant as a weekend at the lake house but still fun. They’d tried to meet up for drinks or dinner since then, but schedules hadn’t worked out.

  “That was a good time. This’ll be a good time, too. I need it. Work’s been hell.”

  The conversation turned to work and life and after another half hour Dayna wandered into the kitchen to give them both absentminded but affectionate hugs and kisses to the cheek. Jay, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, was next. Every time a new person came through the doorway, Mick braced himself for the sight of Alice, but it was never her.

  She’d left. He knew it. She’d snuck off before dawn, desperate to get away and forget about him. He’d screwed up, pushed her too fast and too far.

  And then, there she was. Not exactly radiant, her gorgeous dark red hair tied on top of her head in a bun messy enough to be truly slept on and not for affect. No makeup but the faintly purple shadows that had always plagued her with lack of sleep. Not pretty, but beautiful. Laughing, she didn’t look at him as Paul handed her a mug of coffee and Dayna urged her toward one of the stools at the kitchen island.

  “Still got it for her, huh?” Jay said this so quietly that nobody else could’ve heard him, but Mick still jumped slightly.

  Guilty, he shrugged. “It’s been years.”

  “Some things don’t go away.” Jay let his gaze drift to Paul for the barest moment before giving Mick a small, tight-lipped smile.

  By the time Bernie c