Annie's Wild Ride is the story of Anne and Paul Gaasbeck, who fall in love with each other's passion and ambition, then split up when the intense emotions each generates in the other prove too fiery to handle.
Yet, even seven years after their divorce, when Anne's plane crashes in the mountains, it's Paul who speeds to her rescue -- prompting both to remember not only what went wrong with the two of them, but what went very right.
And that includes a moonlit night in a deserted amusement park neither one has been able to forget.....
The ferris wheel flung upward, and Anne reached for the top button of Paul's jeans, fumbling briefly, as her lips reconnected with his.
"Annie?" He forced himself to pull away from the fire, his voice husky, but staunch.
"What?" Her tone suggested that Anne found now a rather odd time to begin a discussion.
"Annie," her ardent kisses along his chin and up to his brows made concentrating on what Paul needed to say fairly difficult, but he persevered. "Annie, I don't understand... this."
"Really?" She leaned back, surveying him ironically. "Well, then, I tell you, my friend, I can't wait to see you in action when you actually do understand what you're doing."
He smiled self-consciously, struggling to get his point across in spite of the immense... distractions. "What I mean is, Anne, I -- I thought we disliked each other."
"Did we?" She innocently tugged down the zipper of his jeans. "I forgot."
Paul inhaled, gritting his teeth and summoning all available self-control to keep from succumbing to her touch. He was already rock-hard and aching for a release. Her inquisitive hands weren't helping the situation any.
"But, what about all our fights, our arguments, our rivalry?"
"Foreplay."
The wheel sped downward.
Anne mouth roamed across Paul's chest, pausing to nibble first one nipple, then the other. In between, she murmured, "Why do you always have to analyze everything? Stop thinking, just feel. Not everything needs to be put into words, you know."
The wheel rose.
"I like words." Paul rested his hands on Anne's hips, pushing her back just far enough to see her face, but not so far that he no longer felt the sweet pressure of her pelvis against his. "Words help me keep things in order."
The wheel fell.
"Okay, then." Anne lowered her arms. "How about a word for this?" She slipped in past Paul's jeans, feeling him pulsating and rigid in her hand, responding to her physically no matter what may have been coming out of his mouth.
He caught his breath, his hands on her hips tightening as he instinctively pulled Anne closer.
The wheel rose.
"Well?" She grazed him lightly with her fingernails, teasing and titillating, until Paul was sure this was the closest he ever had, or ever would, come to losing his mind. "What's the word?"
The wheel fell.
Paul closed his eyes, perspiration dripping down his neck and chest. He wanted her. No. Worse. He needed her. And there was nothing, no amount of self-discipline or rationalization, capable of disguising that fact.
He cupped Anne's breasts between his palms, the heat from her body searing through his. She had him. Now, and forever, she had him. He buried his mouth in the crook of her neck, devouring her with his lips, as her hands urged him to the edge of the envelope.
"Nice," Paul finally whispered, "The word is... nice."
The wheel rose.
Anne rose as well, mounting and impaling herself against Paul with passion enough to deny both laws of physics and Johnny Mercer. When this irresistible force met this immovable object, they not only occupied the same space at the same time, they transcended it.
Paul plunged inside her, matching his rhythm to hers, holding back until he felt Anne start to tremble. He increased his speed then, and she called out his name again, shuddering and shattering in his embrace.
Anne's candid vulnerability as she sighed and crumpled against his chest devastated the last remnants of Paul's resolve. He let himself go, relinquishing control in exchange for pleasure.
"That," he said, voice steady despite the shudder assaulting his own body, "Was... very nice."
They climbed over the fence to get out of the fairgrounds. In Paul's mind though, it was the least bizarre action he'd engaged in all night. He was still buttoning his shirt as they crossed the parking lot, heading for his car. Beside him, Anne tried to smooth down her dress so it wouldn't appear too wrinkled upon their return to the Academy, but gave up somewhere above the waist-line.
She told Paul, "I had a very nice time, tonight."
He smiled at her choice of words, amazed how such bland sounds could provoke this strong a reaction in him. Paul doubted he could ever hear the expression again, in quite the same way. "So did I."
"Still think we dislike each other?"
Paul opened the passenger door for her, climbing in the other side. "Actually, I think we've moved past it."
She fastened her seat-belt. "So? What do you say? Same time tomorrow night?"
The thought of spending another evening with Anne filled Paul with an intense longing he'd never previously imagined possible.
His body responded as if jump-started, nerve endings snapping to attention and practically humming with desire. His mind whipped through all his obligations scheduled for the next day, then easily dismissed them one by one. This he could put off till later, this he could dump on someone else, this he could forget about entirely.
In the instant after she asked her question, nothing mattered as much to Paul as being able to say, yes.
Yes.
Anything you want.
As long as you want.
Whenever you want.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
He started the engine, turning to look out his driver's side and rear-view mirrors, despite their being the only car in the lot.
Eyes firmly on the road, Paul answered, "Sorry. Can't."
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