Arousing Past Read online

  “I can’t get enough of your lips,” he said, his words a velvet rumble in her ear. “Or of your neck.”

  She was floating. Dreaming. Then his lips trailed over her exposed neck and shoulder, and she shivered.

  “I can’t get enough of you…I could never get enough of you,” he confessed as he stroked her round bottom and firm thighs, while his mouth and tongue drove her wild with desire.

  “Mmm,” she moaned. The thrill of his hands touching her, his sexy voice low in her ear, and the significance of his words were almost too much to bear. She ran her hands over his chest, along his rib cage and up his shoulders. “You can have as much of me as you wish,” she whispered. Lifting herself on her toes, she rubbed her tongue over his upper lip. The intake of his breath assured her she was right on target with her kiss.

  His lips skimmed hot along her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck. “I love the feel of you,” he murmured, tightening his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”

  She slid down his torso, unzipped his pants, freed his erection, and put her lips on his cock. The wet heat of her mouth and the slick motion of her hand made him shudder. She couldn’t read his expression, but she noted his lips quirked in a hot, appreciative smile.

  “Oh, Mel, that’s wonderful.”

  He tasted salty and sweet, and she loved it. She held her breath and took all of him she could manage.

  “Mel. My God.” He buried his hands in her hair and fell back on the bed.

  She followed, setting her own pace—a succession of sucks and licks that had him repeating her name again and again. The combination of his response, and her own emotional and physical stimulation, made her bold. Adventurous. It was so liberating to love the way she loved him. Her heart thudded with joy. Her body ached with need. Her clit pulsed and her juices flowed.

  Joe groaned. “Mel, hon, slow down.”

  He pulled out of her mouth and gently pushed her on her back. He closed his mouth on her puckered nipple and she cried out his name. He slid into her slowly, inch by slow inch, so that she could feel every ridge along his shaft. He buried himself deep, all the way to his balls, and the spiralling pleasure of him filling her, caressing her from the inside, was like nothing she’d known before.

  God, she’d missed him so much.

  Joe reversed their positions and she found herself straddling him, slipping along his cock easily. He curved a hand around the nape of her neck and tugged her down for a kiss. Every nerve ending in her body reacted. Every bit of skin heated to melting point. Every bone in her body began to soften as he thrust his tongue and shaft in and out of her. A moan escaped her throat. One shudder followed another. She lifted her head, pressed her hands to his shoulders, and rode him slowly and deeply. One of his hands cupped her breast, the other grasped her hip. She leant down and he took her nipple in his mouth. The sensation was so awesome she cried out in delirium. All her senses drew in, focusing first on the warmth of his mouth on her breast, then on the tightness between her legs.

  “God, you’re so hot,” he whispered, sounding both pleased and amazed. He rolled over flipping her onto her back, thrusting deep, stretching her so deliciously.

  He was so strong and solid and male.

  “I’ve missed you so,” she gasped when he moved, and arched to meet him, pressing her fingers against the slick muscles of his butt, feeling them surge and tighten with each stroke. Fierce pleasure pulsed through her as he thrust into her faster, harder, closer and closer to the ultimate bliss. Through veiled eyes she noticed his unguarded emotions, recognising her own.

  Awe. Pleasure. Need. Love.

  And, oh, it was almost more than she could stand, the feel of him inside her, around her, against her, driving her, pushing her…until he tensed in her arms and shook all over, trembling with a massive release that pulled her along with him.

  Later, as she drifted in and out of sleep in her new and beautiful bedroom, with the perfume of snapdragons under her window, the roses inside, and Joe’s arms around her, Melissa didn’t much care if their love was aroused from the past or brand new.

  She was home.

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  League of Love: Caitlin’s Hero

  Donna Gallagher

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Caitlin normally swam laps at the same time as Riley had his squad training. If she had to be up early to drive him to the pool, she figured she might as well do something productive with her time instead of sitting around waiting. Caitlin never put on weight. She knew she was lucky in that regard, because some girls were always trying one new fad diet after another, but she did like to feel fit and healthy. Caitlin had a hearty appetite and was almost embarrassed by the amount of food she needed to keep her body fuelled.

  She was neither short nor tall and her long legs, average hips and small waist were all in proportion. The problem with swimming—although she loved being in the water—was that wearing a swimsuit made it easier for people to notice her D-cup breasts.

  Firm and round, they appeared to stick out rudely and she thought they looked out of place on her body. Caitlin and her breasts had not got along since puberty, when they’d seemed to grow to an enormous size almost overnight. Her enjoyment of participating in sports had taken a beating at the cruel taunts from other teens. At one point, Caitlin had actually considered breast reduction surgery.

  That, of course, would not be possible—at least for the foreseeable future. Not after all that had happened recently.

  Caitlin fingered the bracelet on her wrist lovingly, and pushed those sad memories from her mind. She always revelled in the solitude of swimming laps once she got started. It calmed her to listen to herself breathe in and out while her arms and legs sliced through the water, stroke after stroke. Just being around water soothed Caitlin.

  The other bonus of early morning swimming was that there was no need to worry about the harsh Australian sun burning her very pale skin. Giving herself one last pep talk about the water being warm once she got wet, she headed out to the swim deck, trying, as usual, to push her mop of hair under her pink swimming cap.

  As Caitlin did some stretches in preparation, she noticed the players from the local rugby league team on the other side of the fifty-metre pool. Most of the players were walking up and back in a lane, laughing and pushing each other in mock fights. All except for him.

  Caitlin had observed the giant of a man before. In fact, on many occasions she had actually sought him out with her eyes. Why wouldn’t you? she thought to herself. He was gorgeous—such a perfect specimen. Caitlin had watched him stretching his large body, which rippled with the mass of well-defined muscle that made up his impressive physique. Caitlin had also watched him standing, sitting, walking, running and swimming, all in such a skimpy pair of swimmers that not much was left to the imagination, and Caitlin had found she had a good imagination when it came to him.

  On more than one occasion she had dreamt of him, waking to find her body sweaty, the ache in her core unbearable and moisture coating her panties. Caitlin had begun touching herself to try to ease that unfamiliar longing—quietly, discreetly, her strokes reluctant at first. The thought of masturbation had been disturbing, somehow wrong.

  But not wrong enough to stop. On those occasions, she would inch her fingers towards that throbbing, hot place. She’d slide her hand down the front of her panties, past the layers of curls that covered her folds.

  It was always the same. She’d visualise his broad shoulders and washboard abs and her breath would start to come in little puffs and pants, her nipples pulling tight. Caitlin always felt them forming hard button shapes even before she’d let her free hand touch them. She would touch and rub her sensitive nipples as she imagined his face—that sexy, yet sombre-looking face.

  There was something about him that drove her to this point. Nothing and no-one else had ever caused Caitlin to caress her own body in such a way. This uncontrollable need
was new, coinciding with her awareness of his existence. She’d slip her finger in between her folds. They were always slick and warm, and she’d begin to move that finger in a circular motion. Tiny sparks of something indescribable would start to form beneath her finger, her body striving towards some place, some ending to fulfil her ache. As she focused on the memory of his deep voice, which she had overheard when he’d spoken to his teammates, she’d imagine him talking to her, touching her. She’d pretend it was his fingers plucking at her nipples and his hand creating so much havoc within her body.

  Finally, knowing she was nearing that peak that caused her so much bliss, Caitlin would find her clitoris, the place that held the release of that pleasure spike, and she’d rub furiously at it. Push and circle, hard and fast, assaulting her own body until finally the gratification came, a wave of pleasure and relief washing over her slick, wet body, leaving her breathless, boneless, sated.

  Caitlin both loved and hated to remember those times she lost control. She’d heard that masturbation was a normal human need, but it didn’t make her feel any less uncomfortable with her own actions.

  Seeing him in such a state of near nakedness didn’t help. Shaking off her silly, girly fantasies, her stomach fluttering in response to her wilful thoughts, Caitlin stepped onto the block and did a graceful racing dive into the water. For the first few laps she tried to find her rhythm, reprimanding herself for her body’s response to the man by chanting a mantra over and over in her head. “I don’t have time for men, I don’t have time for dating, I don’t have time for men, I don’t have time for dating…”

  Previous forays into the dating scene hadn’t filled her with much confidence. These so-called dates were nothing but a bunch of octopus-limbed disappointments who seemed to think buying her a drink, or dinner, gave them the right to grope her at will. Just the thought had Caitlin angrily pounding her arms into the water.

  * * * *

  Brodie James was tired. Not sleepy, but that bone-deep, weary kind of tiredness that made you feel as if you were dragging yourself through life. He was feeling all of his thirty years at the early morning recovery session.

  Yesterday’s game had been a hard-fought grind, ending disappointingly in a loss for Brodie’s Sydney Jets. Brodie’s battle-fatigued body reminded him painfully of every tackle and knock it had taken. It wasn’t just the game, though. Brodie could not pinpoint what it was that was making him feel so old and jaded. He was living the dream. This was the life he had worked so hard for. He was playing rugby league at the top level.

  Brodie had lived and breathed rugby league from the time he could hold a footy. He was good—some even said the best. Brodie didn’t go much for that sort of talk, though. He was successful, sure. His thirteen years at the top level were testimony enough. He had captained his club, state and country, and earned a good living doing what he loved. What more could he want?

  Maybe that was exactly the issue. What more did he, Broderick Patrick James, want from life?

  Just thinking about it gave Brodie chills, and that wasn’t because he was waist deep in a swimming pool. These recovery sessions were just a part of the routine that was Brodie’s life. He had to contend not only with his aching muscles, but with the antics of his younger teammates as well. Full of the exuberance of youth, these pups were good at riding him about his age. They respected him, though, despite their good-humoured cheek, and they were keen to learn all they could from him.

  As his teammates laughed and horsed around, Brodie’s attention was drawn elsewhere. She was here again. Brodie had seen her swimming laps at the pool many times. Something about the way she walked, or stood, or swam caught his attention. Maybe it was how her elegant arms seemed to effortlessly slice through the water.

  He had watched, fascinated by the way that, no matter how hard she tried, she never completely managed to corral that red mass of curls under her swim cap. There were tendrils always haphazardly poking out. He wanted to tuck them away for her just so he could feel their texture. He wondered what her hair would feel like up against his chest—a bad move on his part. His body had an immediate reaction to the sexy thought, forming an ill-timed lump in the front of his tiny swimming briefs.

  Brodie was shocked at this physical response. He had been with his fair share of women. Not lately, though. Lately he just hadn’t really bothered. He could never tell, these days, if the many offers were made due to his high profile.

  That thought reminded him of the big mistake—his now failed marriage. At first, Lila had seemed to be every man’s dream. She’d said all the right things about wanting a family and the normal trimmings. It wasn’t long, though, before Brodie had realised that what Lila said and what she actually meant were two entirely different things. Lila had wanted everything she could get. The memory of her was enough to remove that tight feeling in his trunks.

  Sighing, Brodie took one last look in the direction of his redhead’s swimming form as her arm lifted and curled back towards the water’s surface. A glimpse of shiny metal caught his eye as it flew from her wrist to plop right into the water next to her. It looked to Brodie like a gold bracelet. She went on swimming, unaware of what had just happened. Without another thought, he ducked under the lane rope and swam towards the spot, diving to the depths of the pool in search of the lost piece of jewellery.

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  About the Author

  Francesca St. Claire was born on a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. She believes this unique event set the scene for an exciting life of romance and adventure, basic ingredients for her sexy short stories.

  After experiencing life in six different countries, she’s currently living in southern Europe with her husband, their three daughters, and a thirteen year old cocker spaniel.

  Olga Korbut (the famous Olympic gymnast from the seventies) once said she never competed for the medals but for the adoration of the crowds. With her third published title, Francesca also hopes to captivate and excite her readers with her stories, and to have their support for years to come.

  Email: [email protected]

  Francesca loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

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