He quirked a brow. "You don't give guys much credit."
"Correction. I didn't give the guys I'd slept with much credit. And anyway, I was too busy for an active sex life, so there were only a few."
"A few isn't a lot, is it?" he asked.
She sighed. "Not nearly enough."
"Is that why you're here? Because you wanted more in depth experience?"
She pushed her now empty plate to the side. "I guess so. I don't know, really. It's not like there are a ton of guys I could indulge my fantasies with in the tiny town where I live. Reputation and all."
He nodded. "Not seemly for a college professor to be seen cavorting at nudist camps and swingers parties, huh?"
She snorted a laugh. "I'd lose my job, and everything I've worked for."
"Why don't you move to a larger city? Where you could be a little more anonymous?"
"Roots, I guess. I grew up not far from there, so I just stayed in my own back yard."
"You have family nearby?"
She shook her head. "Not anymore. My parents are both dead and I have no other relatives."
"I'm sorry." He laid his hand over hers.
"Thank you. It was a long time ago, when I was barely out of high school. Stupid car crash on icy roads." All these years and still the pain of their loss clenched at her heart.
"How long ago?" he asked, obviously curious about her age.
"I'm twenty-eight, if that's what you're asking."
He didn't say anything, so she asked. "How old are you, Michael?"
"I'm thirty-three."
She'd guessed right.
"Must have been tough for you, trying to go to college and having no support."
"I managed."
"Is that what you're doing now, Serena? Just managing?"
She met his gaze. The concern etched on his features made her uncomfortable. His questions made her uncomfortable. She wasn't there to delve into anything but the sexual things lacking in her life. "I don't know. I guess."
"Managing isn't the same as living, you know. You've got a vibrancy, a natural zest for life and excitement that you're obviously not fulfilling in that dinky little hovel you live in. Vacations like this are fun and all, but eventually you have to go home."
"I'm doing fine," she asserted, not wanting to think about her real life during this week of adventure.
"Fine. Managing. This is fantasy, Serena. When you get back home next week, you'll be living. Or, should I say, 'managing.' It's not good enough. A woman like you shouldn't wither away in an unfulfilling existence. You need a different life."
She stood, intending to gather the plates and wash the dishes. Running, that's what she was doing. Running away from thoughts of how miserable her life was. She didn't need this, not right now, not when she'd just started to have fun.
Michael stopped her, his hand grasping her wrist before she could pile the plates in her arms. "Don't run away. Talk about this."
"Why?" she asked. "Why do you care about me? What we have together is only a week of fun and games. Nothing more. When it's over, you'll go back to California and I'll go back to Kansas, and that's the end. My personal life is none of your business."
His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. Anger and something else--frustration, maybe, etched his face. "Maybe not. But this week you're my business. And my pleasure."
He pulled her towards him and crushed his mouth to hers.
Chapter Five
Serena's toes curled. She welcomed this first kiss with Michael like she'd been starving for his mouth. Despite her irritation at his questions about her boring life, she wanted, needed his lips on hers. Those full, sensuous lips, that mouth she'd ached to taste since they'd first met.
He tasted like hot sex in the summer. Juice clung to his lips and she licked it off. His tongue swept into her mouth and grabbed for hers, twining and undulating like the magical dance of sex. Moisture pooled between her legs as his sensuous lips caressed hers. She knew then, knew that what she'd experienced earlier today, had only been a prelude to what would happen later.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him, pressing against his hardening shaft, knowing as well as he did that they had unfinished business. They had so much more to share.
Tearing his mouth away, he rained kisses down her throat, stopping to take a little nibble out of that spot where her neck met her shoulder. She shivered, delighting in the scrape of his teeth against her flesh.
His skin felt heated to her touch. She slipped her hands over his broad shoulders, then over his chest, tangling her fingernails into the crisp hairs, searching and finding his nipples. She flicked her thumbs over the flat nubs, feeling them bud to life.
Michael inhaled sharply.
"You like having your nipples touched," she whispered, pulling back to gaze into his darkening eyes.
"Yes," he rasped. "So do you." With one yank he pulled her tube top down, exposing her breasts and gathering them in his hands.
Michael drank in the sight of her breasts, feeling the weight of them with his hands. She was perfectly proportioned, curvy in all the right places. He didn't have to worry about breaking her if he held her too tight. Huge breasts and lush hips, a woman made for a man. His erection made its presence known, jutting up between them.
He pulled at her round, pink nipples until they distended like ripe strawberries. He ached to fit his mouth around them and suck them, wanted to draw them out with his lips, hear her gasp with pleasure like she'd done earlier today.
Her orgasm had ripped through him earlier, taking him on the same wild ride. Never before had he seen a woman let go so completely. She'd been completely immersed in the sensations at the voyeur room today, soaking in the sights and sounds of the erotic escapades before them. And wanted--no--demanded that she have her share.
What an amazing woman. And how easy it would be to get caught up with her, to want more than just a week of casual sex.
But that wasn't going to happen. Michael knew that. They had different lives in the real world. And he was a cynic, finished with any notion of love. Fucking was fine. Love was a dream--a forgotten fantasy. At least for him.
Serena needed to find a man to love her. Someone who would give her everything she craved.
He focused on her now, watching her green eyes darken with passion. Her mouth opened, those full lips begging for his kiss. Her breathing quickened every time he rubbed his palms over her swollen nipples.
What he wanted to do was sweep her up into his arms, carry her to his bed and fuck her all night long until this strange need for her went away.
But that wasn't what he was going to do. Taking her to his bed would be intimate, personal. Best to keep things between them the way he originally intended.
Fun and games, and fucking. And only at the events they'd scheduled for the week. Nothing more.
He dropped his hands to his sides, ignoring the stab of guilt he felt at the confused look on her face. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he said, "I've got some work to do. Think I'll go take some quiet time in my room and start on my plot outline."
Her bottom lip trembled, and she sucked it in. Probably so he wouldn't see her disappointment. Fuck. Now he felt like an asshole.
Well, why not? He was an asshole.
"Did you want to bounce some story ideas off me?" she asked, pulling her top up over her breasts.
"Nah, not right now. I'm beat, and not fit company for other humans."
"Did I do something to offend you?" she asked.
Shit. Now he really felt like a prick. "No. Not at all. I just don't want to start something I'll be too tired to finish." Yeah right. Like he'd ever be too tired to get naked with Serena.
"Oh. All right, then. I'm kind of tired myself. Think I'll head to my room and work for awhile."
"Good night."
He watched her walk away, knowing he'd hurt her feelings. He felt like kicking himself. Nothing like teasing the woman to a frenzied state of arous
al and then dumping her on her ass.
Nice move, Donovan. Real nice move.
*
Serena stood in the bathroom, irritated that she'd spent another sleepless night punching her pillow. She'd stared at the moon, its smiling craters mocking her, until the morning sun peeked in and she realized how fruitless attempts at sleep were.
She was such an idiot. What did she think was going to happen between them last night? That Michael would carry her to his bed and make love to her?
That wasn't what this week was about. It was about sex. Fucking, to be exact. Living out her fantasies. Not some dreamy, emotional involvement leading to romance.
When would she learn? For a year she'd planned this trip, looking forward to some impersonal, unemotional sex. And what had she found so far?
Nothing.
Except Michael. Hot, sexy, witty, adventurous Michael.
With a flick of her wrist the hairbrush went sailing across the bathroom counter, skidding to a halt at the very edge.
That's how she felt. On the edge. Itchy. Like she had a rash and desperately wanted to scratch it.
Sex. That's what she needed. What they'd done yesterday just whet her appetite for what could be. That's what she'd focus on today. Keep things impersonal between her and Michael. He was a mouth, hands and a penis. That's all. There to give her pleasure, and nothing more.
Figuring on spending the day by the pool, she threw on her skimpiest bikini and a see through cover up, slipped into her sandals, and tossed her unruly hair into a clip.