Center Stage
Page 9

They’d managed to clear it from the box springs and push it to her bedroom. They set it up against the wall and repeated the process for the box springs.
With the box springs in place, they pushed the mattress to the edge of the bed and gave it a hefty push, letting it fall.
“Now get on that side and pull while I push it into place,” he said.
Arianna grabbed hold of the edge of the mattress, and John gave it an enormous shove that sent the mattress across the bed and right into Arianna’s gut, causing her to slip and fall to the hardwood floor.
“God, are you okay?” He hurried around the bed.
There she was flat on the floor, holding her elbow, and laughing.
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Just my pride, my ass, and my elbow.”
He knelt down and took her arm. She winced as he straightened it.
“Looks okay.”
She bent her arm and tried to look. “Eh, nothing to write home about.”
“C’mon.” He stood and held out his hands to help her up. She took hold of his hand and he pulled her up, sending her entire body slamming into him.
John’s balance shifted and sent him back to the bed, pulling her down with him.
“We suck at this,” she said laughing. Her dark curls shadowed her face as she looked down at him, pinned beneath her.
“Huh.” What else could he say when the most beautiful woman he’d ever know had him on her bed, her body pressed against.
Her eyes changed the longer he was silent. This was no longer just a moment where he was helping her put her home back together. This was a moment he’d thought of a million times and swore he’d never take advantage of, but with her breath growing heavier the longer she stared down at him, he had no choice.
His hand went to her hair, and his fingers tangled in the curls. He pulled her down until their lips were just a breath apart. She looked into his eyes. A want—a need—glossed over them, and he knew, in that moment, they weren’t leaving to get steak.
John’s fingers pulled at her hair as his mouth opened to hers. Oh, she’d waited for this moment for months, though she’d never expected him to make the first move.
His lips, rough from the cold and wind, scraped against hers. His tongue sought hers out, and his hand pressed against the small of her back.
It had been so long since a man had such an urgency to kiss her that her head spun. Maybe it wasn’t the time frame at all, maybe it was the man. This man.
John pulled at her shirt until he broke the kiss to pull it over her head. But his lips were back to hers in an instant.
She began a quick assault on the buttons of his red, flannel shirt. The fabric spread open revealing a white T-shirt beneath.
Arianna pushed the shirt from his chest, and with her mouth still engaged hungrily in the kiss that was rocking her entire insides, she pulled the shirt from his arms and then yanked the T-shirt over his head.
Beneath her hands lay muscles sculpted from years of manual labor. Sparse, gray hair shimmered over his chest.
She ran her hand over his skin and felt his heart beat beneath her fingertips.
John pushed back on the bed, his hands making quick work of her bra clasp as she tried to manage the button on his jeans.
No longer could she feel the draft of cold she’d felt in the room earlier. Her skin was heating up under his touch.
Before she’d managed to release the button on his pants, he’d freed her of hers and she lay there naked, vulnerable, and ready.
“You’re beautiful.” His eyes skimmed over her body.
There had been times, in similar situations, where she was uncomfortable and wanted to hide, but not with John. There was something in the way he looked at her—gazed at her—which made her want more.
His mouth went to her neck and trailed to her breast. She arched against him, and her nails dug into his skin.
He moved back to her neck and then to her ear. “I’m having a great deal of guilt that I want to make love to you.”
“Why?” she asked breathlessly.
“You’re young.”
She knew she shouldn’t laugh, but there was no way around it. “I’m almost forty.”
“Much younger than me.”
She couldn’t help but pull back. “How much younger?” Not that it mattered. The man had driven her crazy for months, and she wanted this more than anything. “No.” She nipped his lips with her teeth. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve wanted this since Carlos’s first wedding. So don’t stop now.”
He brushed a kiss down her neck. “I’m not prepared for this. I certainly didn’t think I’d end up with you under me.”
“John,” she said as she cupped his face in her hands. “Trust me. I’m taken care of. I want this. And bless you, but I’m not young. So if you don’t hurry, I’m liable to roll you over and take control of this situation.”
The humor was back in his eyes and that made him even sexier, which she didn’t think that was possible.
His mouth was back on hers, hot, hungry, and tantalizing her skin as he worked his lips and tongue over her body. Somehow his pants had been worked off, and it was just them, skin to skin, on her mattress starting a fire that she could only hope would never burn out.
Arianna’s heart pounded in her chest. Strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty face, and John’s arms were wrapped around her, his rapid breath warm against her neck.
They had done it—broke that sacred bond of growing friendship and traded it for hot, sweaty, amazing sex.
“I don’t know how old you think you are, but,” she said, trying to catch her breath, “you’re absolutely amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She rolled over so they were face to face. He brushed away the strands of hair from her face. “You didn’t want to do this, did you?”
“Oh, hell, I wanted to do it. I just didn’t think it was the right thing to do. And it kinda puts us in a strange situation, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. Your rent just went up. Now you don’t have to feel guilty.”
He laughed as he interlaced their fingers. “What will your sister think?”
“Are you going to tell her?”
He adjusted to look at her. “I assumed you would.”
“Well, of course I will, in time.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “But I don’t tell her everything.”