The Sex Diet Page 14

  Samantha grinned, rolled her head toward Hank and peered at him through the darkness. The dash lights illuminated the smooth planes of his profile, the thin blade of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw. She bit her lip as need ballooned below her navel, muddling her insides. Just looking at him made her warm and wet, made her heart pound and her blood simmer. God, she was a hopeless case.

  Yes, she’d just won a beauty pageant—a feat she’d never in a million years would have anticipated. The resulting euphoria from that unexpected victory still glowed happily inside her.

  And, yes, she’d just won ten grand, a new SUV and a vacation—all unequivocally wonderful by anyone’s standards—and yet the joy of the windfall paled in comparison when compared to the vast relief she felt now that the damned contest was over and she could claim her real prize—Hank.

  She’d waited so very long—her entire life—for this night with him, and though she still had reservations about what they were about to do, she wouldn’t dare change her mind. While Hank would undoubtedly regret things later—once he was out from under the influence of her überpheromones, Samantha thought with no small amount of dreaded anticipation—she nonetheless knew that she would never regret being with him. How could she when every breath she breathed seemed tied to this night? To the coming moments? When every single cell in her body sang with desperate expectation?

  Sam’s gaze turned inward as she relived that bizarre moment when their gazes had connected right after they’d crowned her Belle of the Beach. Hank had been thrilled for her—she’d read that immediately in the wide triumphant smile stretched across his tanned, handsome face. But there had been something more…something that had simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. Something beyond sexual attraction or mere friendly affection.

  He’d been annoyingly secretive about where they were going and his plans for tonight. Oh, she knew what he had planned, could tell from the heat in those sea-blue eyes that she would undoubtedly find herself thoroughly seduced by the end of the evening.

  And she couldn’t wait. Every feminine part of her yearned for him, was throbbingly aware of him.

  But it was what he’d concocted which led up to that ultimate seduction that had her nerves twitching with raw anticipation. He’d been gone the majority of the day, and he was endearingly nervous, which led her to believe that he’d gone to a lot of trouble to plan their evening. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t be nervous about making love to her—that smoldering gaze he’d been treating her to exuded as much heat as confidence, an arousing combination to be sure.

  Furthermore, he hadn’t even wanted to give her time to change after the pageant, had tried to herd her speedily into the SUV and be off. Sam would have liked nothing better herself, but had insisted upon changing first so that she could sneak an antihistamine. The damned things were wearing off entirely too fast. She made a mental note to double up on her next dose because she fully intended to increase her sex diet portions, triple them if need be. Extreme? Yes. But she couldn’t afford not to.

  Now that she finally had Hank, she didn’t dare run the risk of losing her pheromone advantage. At least not until this week was over. Just the idea of it being over cast a pall over her heart, so she firmly closed the door on that line of thinking. She didn’t have much time left and she had absolutely no intention of letting an inevitable conclusion ruin what would undoubtedly be the best time of her life. She wanted this memory preserved unblemished. She’d treasure it forever, would pull it out on lonely nights and mull it over like a care-worn photograph.

  Hank wheeled the SUV off the road and aimed it down a long, winding packed-sand drive. After a moment, he slowed to a stop. “We’ll have to walk from here,” he told her. He leaned over the console and treated her to a slow but thorough kiss, a prelude to the night ahead, and by the time he reluctantly dragged his lips from hers, Samantha would have gladly forgone any elaborate seduction, would have been just as happy if he’d asked her to crawl into the back seat. Her muscles had melted with pleasure and a steady throbbing heat had commenced in her nipples and between her thighs.

  She swallowed a sigh, then opened the door and forced her wobbly legs to make the trek to the back of the SUV where Hank presently stood. He hauled a picnic basket and a flashlight out of the cargo area, shut the door and then turned to face her. “It’s just a short walk.”

  Sam nodded and followed him, anticipation dogging her every step. Her palms tingled and gooseflesh suddenly erupted all over her body. Every article she’d read about sex, every how-to-please-a-lover manual, every single carnal act of depravity she’d ever fantasized about had hastened to the forefront of her mind. Her ultimate dream—sex with Hank—was just within her reach and the very idea made her so hot that self-combustion became a genuine fear. She shook herself, dragged in a shallow breath and tried to concentrate on something besides sex with Hank. And more sex with Hank. And even more sex with Hank.

  Sam frowned thoughtfully. Like where they were.

  Though she was fairly familiar with her hometown, she didn’t have any idea where they were. At least, not precisely. Hank had taken Fort Morgan Road, had driven past several new condominium complexes and private subdivisions, but she hadn’t been paying close enough attention to discern their exact location. A cloud moved past the moon briefly illuminating her companion. Her gaze drifted over his broad shoulders, down the masculine line of his back and settled on his delectable ass. Sam’s lips curled as an arrow of heat landed another bull’s-eye in her belly. Her mind had been on other things.

  Hank threw her a look over his shoulder. “Watch your step. There’s a bit of an incline.”

  Samantha followed him up a steep dune, was slightly winded as they reached the top…and her breath left her altogether at the sight that greeted her.

  She stopped, stunned, unable to move.

  Hank had half-descended the sandy hill before he realized that she hadn’t followed him. An endearing, slightly relieved grin toyed with his oh-so-sexy lips as he noted her flabbergasted expression. “I take it the lady is impressed,” he said sardonically. She didn’t have to see those sinful blue eyes to know that a twinkle of amusement undoubtedly danced in their depths.

  Sam swallowed tightly. Impressed couldn’t begin to describe the maelstrom of emotions currently churning in her rapidly beating heart, a heart that had all but stopped just a moment ago in shocked delight. “How did you— When did you—” She gestured helplessly, unable to finish as her gaze took in the sight from the top of the dune.

  A huge steep-pitched tent straight out of an Arabian fantasy had been erected on the deserted sand. Yards and yards of gauzy jewel-colored fabrics billowed in the soft breeze. A curving pathway of luminary candles invited one across the sand, and outlined their outdoor boudoir. Big tropical plants anchored each corner of the makeshift room and hundreds—hundreds—of candles danced in the warm night air.

  An intimate table set for two draped with crisp white linens and a bouquet of hot pink oleander as well as a silver champagne bucket completed the romantic setting. Someone, Hank she imagined, had dug a fire pit and a merry flame flickered from the ground, adding even more ambiance to the romantically whimsical decor.

  Hank set the picnic basket next to the table, and she watched his body become a shadow as he disappeared into the tent. He bent over and a mere second later Barry White’s smooth, deep voice resonated softly from inside the virtually see-through structure.

  An inexplicable grin tilted her lips.

  Hank emerged from the tent and flashed her a smile. “Mood music,” he told her.

  Like she needed it, Sam thought with a derisive snort. “Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” she said instead. Of their own volition, her feet had finally begun the descent down the dune. She simply couldn’t believe that he’d done all of this for her, that he’d taken the time to pull something like this together just for her.

  And he’d definitely done it for her.r />
  Samantha knew Hank would have been just as happy to have made love to her back in his room at the B&B—hell, he’d been ready to make love to her in the damned kitchen, and only moments ago she would have gladly done it in the back seat of her new SUV—but he’d wanted something special for her—something unforgettable—and he’d most definitely achieved that.

  Making love with Hank could never be an unforgettable experience, she knew—God, how she knew!—but he’d gone the extra mile, had even incorporated some of her favorite things—oleander, candlelight and champagne—and only someone with a hard heart would fail to be touched. Considering he unwittingly owned her heart, the gesture was almost too wonderful to bear. Too much. Sam swallowed tightly.

  The tent in and of itself was simply unbelievable. She cast a covert peek inside catching a glimpse at dozens of satin floor pillows piled on top of the sand. An image of what they would be doing on those pillows in just a short while flashed before her eyes and a bolt of heat ignited in her belly at the mere thought.

  Candles in jeweled votives had been suspended from the interior poles in varying heights, giving the fanciful impression of multicolored stars. The combined textures and colors, the silky satin, sensual jewel tones and the warm glow of candlelight was a feast for the senses. Inspired images of hot bodies and bare skin, of erotic fantasies and hard orgasms. Sam expelled a soft shuddering breath.

  She couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than what he’d created. Couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful, more romantic. Something sweet and tender swelled in her chest, pushed into her throat and misted her eyes. She blinked it away, refusing to acknowledge the sentiment. There would be time for that later.

  Hank, who stood by the table and who clearly couldn’t stand to wait for her response any longer looked at her and said, “Well?”

  The hint of anxiety in his voice ridiculously warmed her heart. He wanted her approval, her opinion, her reaction.

  Her.

  “It’s utterly incredible,” she finally managed with a choked laugh. “I’m speechless. I, uh—” She looked around, unable to frame the right reply. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about ‘Thank you, Hank’?” he suggested with a wry smile, lightening the curiously tense moment.

  Sam chuckled softly. “I suppose that would work. Thank you, Hank,” she dutifully repeated.

  “You’re welcome.” He’d filled a flute and handed it to her. “Are you hungry?”

  She had been right up until this very minute…but one hunger had superceded another. Sam bit her lip as another rush of wanton heat engulfed her and she slid him a glance. She let her gaze lingeringly roam from one end of his body to the other, then finally met his gaze. She expelled a soft sigh. “Not really. Are you?”

  Hank had grown unnaturally still, evidence that he’d sensed her abrupt change in mood. His lips curled ever so slightly and a wicked glint reflected in his suddenly heavy-lidded gaze. “I could eat—”

  Sam swallowed a disappointed sigh. Now he wanted to wait? They’d waited all this time and he couldn’t forgo a single meal to—

  “—you.”

  Sam’s mental tirade came to a grinding halt as the you surfaced amidst the irritation and she, too, stilled. Her gaze tangled with his and her fertile imagination instantly imagined his head once again between her legs, making a feast of her. Warmth rushed to her core, slickened her feminine folds. Oh, thank God, she thought.

  Finally.

  Then, though her stomach clenched with nervous anticipation, Sam set her glass aside, tentatively leaned forward and kissed Hank. The moment her lips touched his, every hesitation, every vestige of nervous anticipation vanished, washed away by years of unrequited lust and longing. She funneled every ounce of desire, of sexual promise, she could muster into the melding of their mouths, then only after the briefest hesitation, boldly slid her hand over his groin.

  His startled wince of pleasure hissed through her blood, validating the brash move. “Okay,” she told him as she drew back. “But I’ll need to inspect your…utensil…first.”

  With an exaggerated swing of her hips, she turned and made her way toward the tent.

  12

  SHE’D BARELY HAD TIME TO BEMOAN her use of metaphor before a broken chuckle erupted from Hank’s throat and she sensed a flurry of movement from behind her.

  “I’ll show you a utensil,” he warned with a choked laugh, then with a running leap, lightly tackled her from behind.

  Sam gave a startled yelp, which quickly turned into a squeal of laughter as they landed with a soft oomph on top of the pillows.

  Still laughing, Hank rolled her underneath him and nuzzled her neck. His warm weight engulfed her, causing a sensual heat to sparkle like stardust from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Gooseflesh peppered her arms, raced down her spine. She was seconds away from completing Operation Orgasm—of reaching her ultimate goal—and the fact that Hank would be the man to see her to that place was the crowning glory of that coup.

  Impatience spiked. Now that the time was at hand, she didn’t want to wait another second—hadn’t she waited long enough? She no longer desired a grand seduction. She only had one single-minded desire—to feel his naked skin beneath her palms, feel the long, hard length of him embedded deeply inside of her.

  In short, she wanted him—now.

  Sam eagerly tugged his shirt from his waistband, felt a smile bloom on her lips as she slid her hands up the sleek skin at the small of his back. God, he felt wonderful.

  Hot, hard and thrilling.

  He shuddered beneath her touch, giving her irrefutable proof that the fever that burned inside her burned in him as well.

  He emitted a low growl of approval, then left her ear and found her mouth once more. The kiss was slow and deep, thorough and inexplicably drugging. His tongue skillfully probed her mouth, curled around her own, then explored the sensitive recesses hidden behind her bottom lip. He fed at her mouth, purposefully baiting a hunger that needed no provocation.

  A rush of heat flooded her womb, drenched her sex; her limbs grew heavy and a hot sluggish warmth slid through her veins. Every cell in her body was mad for release and he’d put her in this frenzied state of desperation with a mere kiss. If it didn’t feel so damned wonderful, she’d be annoyed. As it was, who could be annoyed? Who would bother?

  Particularly since one of Hank’s hands had commenced with a similar exploration as her own.

  She felt a gentle tug at the hem of her blouse, then the brush of his warm fingers against her belly. She sucked in a stuttered breath, causing her abdomen to quiver beneath his lazy yet determined touch. His palm skimmed her rib cage, trekked slowly—tantalizingly—upward until his hand grazed the underside of her pouting breast. Her nipple contracted, hardened in anticipation of his touch.

  Sam shifted, pushing her aching breast into his hand, and a slow sigh escaped as his thumb rasped over the tightened peak. She’d adopted a why bother? attitude and foregone the bra. And thank God, Sam thought as her eyes all but rolled back in her again. The sensation was amazing, had validated every ounce of shellfish she’d eaten, made every antihistamine worthwhile.

  And, strictly speaking, they hadn’t even reached the good part yet.

  Hank’s masculine purr of pleasure reverberated in their joined mouths. She greedily ate that sound, hungered for more like it. An inexplicable flash of heat ignited in her womb, singeing her frayed nerve endings.

  “God, Sam, you smell so good,” he growled, his voice deep and sexy.

  So did he, Samantha thought, inhaling his particular scent. Beach and Man. Irresistible. Intoxicating.

  And he’d probably smell better naked.

  She tugged at his shirt again, impatiently this time, drawing a wicked chuckle from Hank. He drew back and allowed her to pull the silky garment over his head. Though she’d been privy to Hank’s chest countless times, this was the first opportunity she’d ever had to view the impressive landscape with
such close scrutiny, the first chance she’d had to admire the absolute manly perfection of his body. His skin gleamed like polished bronze in the candlelight and the muscles bunched and flexed with a lazy yet powerful grace.

  Mesmerized, Sam slid her hands over the sleek, supple landscape, over the bumpy ridges of his abdomen, felt his pale, feathery, masculine hair abrade her palms as she smoothed them farther still over his pecs and onto his powerful shoulders. Her body vibrated with insistent need and her very insides seemed to melt with a wanton heat. She leaned forward and licked the hollow of his throat, savored the salty flavor of his skin.

  Hank took advantage of her raised position and, when she drew back, dragged her shirt off as well. Those sea-blue eyes darkened to the hue of the sky before an approaching storm, grew heavy-lidded and hot as he gazed at her nearly naked form.

  He wanted her.

  Confidence bubbled up through her, weighted her shoulders and, with a small smile and a delicate arch of her back, she sank against the pillows. Hank swiftly followed her. To her supreme relief, he didn’t dally with soft seductive touches—which she would have unquestionably enjoyed—but eagerly shaped his hands to her achy breasts, then fastened his hot mouth upon one.

  He must have read her mind, because at this precise moment—when need had all but become a living, breathing thing writhing in the pit of her belly—she most definitely preferred the direct approach.

  Sam’s breath left her in a startled whoosh of pleasure. A bolt of sheer joy arrowed directly to her womb, then mushroomed through her.

  He suckled greedily, flattened the rosy peak against the roof of his mouth, then licked and nipped and generally worshipped her until she could scarcely draw a breath. She arched up, urging him to further feast upon her, shamelessly begging him for this desperate pleasure and more.

  Between the cool silk at her back, his big hard body above her and his hot mouth upon her breast, Sam was literally burning up from the inside out. Suddenly all those hedonistic, depraved scenarios she’d fantasized and imagined faded into insignificance. There was nothing more carnal—more seductive—than having him like this. Wanting her as much as she wanted him. Desperate, as she was.