Groaning, Sailor put his hand back on her breast. “Your bra’s pretty.” Soft and feminine. “But I want it off.” Sailor wasted no time in making that happen. He was so hungry for her, so determined to brand her as his, that he felt eighteen again and not like a struggling business owner barely hanging on by his fingernails.
The only downside was that teenage boys weren’t known for their sexual stamina. And ísa was his wettest dream. All opulent curves and gorgeous skin with nipples as pink as her lips. He had no hope in hell of resisting. Pausing only long enough to tear off his T-shirt so ísa could touch him, he dropped his head and sucked one pouting tip into his mouth.
* * *
íSA’S BRAIN WASN’T MAKING MUCH sense right now. Her fingers clenched in the thick dark of Sailor’s hair, the heat of his body surrounding her as he did things to her breasts that made her thighs squeeze around his hard body. The hand he put on her other breast was callused, his skin in contrast to the firm wetness of his mouth.
She shuddered, found herself clawing his back in an effort to tug him up for a kiss.
“Hellcat.” A sinful grin as he released her aching, sensitive nipple to give her that kiss, deep and lush and erotically patient.
“Now,” he said with a scrape of his teeth over her lower lip, “let me get back to work.” With that, he dropped his head to her neglected breast while using his free hand to stroke her thigh.
When he began to pull down her panties, she knew this was it—the moment she either stopped him… or didn’t. And they got busy in a garage on a suburban street.
Turned out she was still feeling reckless and insane.
And young.
So wickedly, wildly young.
Teenage-girl-in-the-back-seat-of-her-boyfriend’s-truck young.
The mint-green lace of her panties was hanging around one of her ankles two seconds later. And he was stroking his hand up her leg and she shivered at the feel of his skin against her inner thigh. She would’ve screamed at his next touch, directly between her thighs, if he hadn’t clamped his mouth over hers.
Gripping at her hair with his other hand, he held her in place for his kiss while his fingers stroked and flicked and made her come so hard she trembled from head to toe.
“Oh, that was good,” he purred as if rewarding her.
She felt like telling him she’d already been rewarded. But her mouth wasn’t working quite right and she didn’t stop him when he hauled her across the seat so that she ended up in a half recline. He gave her no warning before he buried his face between her thighs.
ísa’s back bowed, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the faded and weathered leather of the seats as Sailor pushed her over with a relentless male focus. This time her scream was so deep it was soundless. She heard a wrapper tear, knew he was getting ready to enter her.
Her exhausted inner muscles clenched in greedy readiness.
Strong hands cupped her buttocks, squeezed. “You with me, beautiful?”
ísa pushed up on her elbows, met the blue of his gaze, and smiled. “Yes, my studly boy toy.”
Laughing in sinful delight, he bent to kiss her even as he thrust into her. The rest was steamy windows and dirty talk and a fantasy coming hotly true. And through it all ran a vein of terrifying joy. Because this felt right.
Dangerously, beautifully, heartbreakingly right.
31
The Cost of Dreams
THURSDAY WAS A HARSH RETURN to reality after five days beyond Sailor’s wildest dreams. Following that intense, sexy, fucking amazing interlude in his garage, he and ísa had driven back to her place, fallen into bed… and stayed there for most of Sunday. He’d stroked and petted and marked up her delicate skin, and she’d been as possessive with his body.
Sailor was good with that. More than good with it.
Then Monday they’d had a private Christmas Eve celebration in the afternoon, sharing small gifts they’d secretly bought for one another. He’d found a pair of pretty earrings for her that looked like bunches of flowers falling from her ears—from her shining eyes, it looked like he’d gotten it right.
She’d given him a belt with an aged buckle that he already knew he’d wear the hell out of.
Fighting their desire to shut out the world, they’d gone in different directions after that private celebration, both having promises to keep. Sailor’s family was congregating at his paternal grandparents place ninety minutes out of Auckland, and he’d promised to go down early and help his gramps and grandma set up. ísa, meanwhile, had given her scattered family orders to show their faces at her apartment for a family dinner.
“Next Christmas,” Sailor had promised as he kissed her goodbye, “we’ll do it together. Combine the clans.”
Gaze soft, ísa had drawn him into another kiss instead of answering. And he’d known he hadn’t yet caught the mist, hadn’t yet convinced her to trust him with her heart. The thought haunted him even through the joy of the holidays, was still on his mind as he sat in his truck on his second day back at work.
He’d only taken Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off but hadn’t managed to see ísa yet, as she and Harlow had driven down to Hamilton with Catie on Christmas Day. The two had returned this morning and both were back at work too.
He’d have his redhead in his arms again tonight.
He was planning the next step in his plan to convince her to be his when his phone rang. His gut clenched at seeing his loan manager’s name on the screen. Having just finished up the school project so he could focus fully on Fast Organic, he was still in his truck in the school parking lot.
“Jenni,” he said, one hand braced on the steering wheel and his eyes looking through the windshield at the sun-golden school grounds. “I wasn’t expecting a call until after the new year.”
“I’m working between the public holidays, taking my break later, and I wanted to get back to you as fast as possible.”
“Good news or bad?” He and the loan officer had a friendly relationship—Sailor had already taken out and paid back a couple of smaller loans.
This one, however, would be a much bigger risk for the bank.
“Good and bad,” Jenni replied in a tone as no-nonsense as her steel-gray bob. “The good is that the bank will give you the loan.”
Sailor didn’t start celebrating. “I’m waiting for the bad.”
“You’re going to need someone to cosign. You just don’t have the assets to borrow against. Not at this amount.”
Sailor’s hand clenched on the steering wheel. “Thanks for trying anyway.” He knew Jenni had gone to bat for him with the higher-ups.
“What?” Jenni’s tone rose. “Sailor, this isn’t a big deal. Your folks cosigned that first loan when you were eighteen.”
Even then, it had been difficult for Sailor to accept any help. He’d done so only because he’d seen how much his parents wanted to be a part of his journey. But he wasn’t eighteen anymore, and the need inside him to achieve this through his own hard work, it had become a second heartbeat that pounded day and night.
“Some things,” he said to Jenni, “a man has to do on his own.”
Jenni was made of stern stuff, didn’t give up. “What about your brother?”