“I don’t think you’re boring. I find you quite . . . stimulating, in fact,” I answered.
“Really? What exactly do you find stimulating?” he inquired.
“Well, right now it’s your voice. That damn accent is driving me crazy,” I breathed into the phone. This had gone from innocent to sexpot fast.
“It’s always the accent that drives you American women crazy. I’d no idea you fancied it, too.”
“Oooh, ‘fancied it.’ Say more like that,” I begged, smiling.
“Like what, Grace?”
“Talk British to me,” I whispered, only half joking.
“Dustbins.”
“More,” I said encouragingly.
“Crumpets.”
“More!” I demanded.
“Knickers.”
If I could have heard Jack Hamilton say a second word for the rest of my life, it would have been knickers.
“Say ‘put another shrimp on the barbie’!” I cried.
“Grace, that’s Australian,” he said chidingly.
“Say it!”
“Fine. Put another shrimp on the barbie. Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!” I screamed into the phone. Holly was passing by my room and rolled her eyes. I grinned at her.
“Are you quite finished now?” he asked.
“Oh, my, yes. That was great. Thank you for that,” I giggled.
“Anything for my unidentified redhead.”
His unidentified redhead? Damn skippy.
“So, what do you have planned for the evening?” I asked.
“I’m going to a club opening, somewhere off Robertson,” he said, not sounding that excited about it.
“Well, be careful. And you’re not allowed to sleep with anyone from any reality show on MTV,” I said.
“Oh, laying claims now, are we?” he said teasingly, making me realize what I had just said.
Too early, Grace.
“Then I want to lay some claims, too,” he said.
Maybe not too early . . .
“None of my claims are getting laid tonight, but go ahead.”
“You’re not allowed to sleep with anyone who has ever watched a reality show on MTV,” he said in a silky voice.
“So is there an after-midnight clause?” I said teasingly.
“Don’t tempt me, Grace, or I’ll comb every club in West Hollywood looking for you, starting at the stroke of midnight,” he said matter-of-factly.
My toes curled. I still needed that second shot of Hamilton. “Heh heh, you said—”
“Stroke. I know, I said stroke. I’m onto you, Sheridan.”
Please, be onto me . . . at least on me.
“Okay, Holly’s wearing a hole in the carpet outside my door. I need to get going. I’ll speak to you soon?” I hated to get off the phone, but I couldn’t take much more of this.
“Yes, I need to meet up with my mates, too. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t put too much sparkle on your boobies. They look great, by the way. Nice robe.” He chuckled.
“Thanks. I— Wait, how did you know I’m wearing a—”
“Night, Grace,” he whispered.
I sat there. What the fudge?
I heard a snicker and looked toward the door. There was Holly with her camera phone, and on the screen was a picture of me from a few minutes ago. My robe had fallen open just enough that you could see the tops of my girls, to say nothing of how high it was open on my legs.
The worst part was that she had taken it when I was screaming after he said “shrimp on the barbie.” I looked like I was in a porno.
She danced away from my lunge and said, “Never smack me with your loofah again. I know where it’s been.”
Bloody hell.
nine
The night was fun. Holly and I met up with Nick at a club in West Hollywood. They were having “decades” night, and we danced all night in the eighties room. I didn’t mention to Nick the fact that I had been engaged in a back-and-forth with Jack. First, I knew how big a crush he really did have. Second, he worked in the industry too, and that was just too tempting a rumor.
After the hangover from the other day, I restricted myself to a two-drink maximum, despite Nick’s best attempts to get me wasted and onstage with a drag queen. It was not going to happen—the getting-wasted part. I did dance on the stage.
I packed my tired ass into bed sometime after three—well past my bedtime—and was asleep almost instantly, although not so instantly that I didn’t spare a thought for the Brit and wonder whether he was home yet or not.
Only a few hours later, after some much-needed power sleeping, I decided to go for another run in Griffith Park. As I drove through the canyons on the way, my phone rang. It was the Brit.
“Hey there,” I chirped merrily into the phone. I was happier than I wanted to be to talk to him.
“Hey, Nuts Girl. What are you up to?” he asked, his voice deliciously thick. He sounded like he’d just woken up.
“I’m going for a run. You?”
“I’m still in bed, trying to decide if I can talk the girl at Starbucks into making a home delivery. Is it too pretentious to ask if she’s a Time fan?” he asked, already knowing my answer.
“Yes, it is. Don’t you dare,” I said, chiding him.
“Where are you going for your run?” he inquired, setting me up.
I let him. “Griffith Park, why?”
“Oh, that’s really close to my place. Pity I don’t know who that unidentified redhead was. I bet she’d get me some coffee.”
“Maybe if you ask really nice and then you kiss on her for a while, she might consider it.” I loved where this was leading.
“That’s a deal. When I see her, I’ll kiss on her until she tells me to stop.”
“Who says she’ll tell you to stop?”
“Then you better get your sweet ass over here so I can begin the kissing,” he said.
You’re going to let him touch your boobies, aren’t you?
Maybe. Probably.
“Okay, I’m going for my run, and then I’ll be by with your coffee. Did you need a muffin, too? Or am I just your java wench for now?” I said, sassing him back.
“Ha ha! Just the coffee, but skip the run. I’m lonely.”
“No, I need to run. Besides, that will give you time to clean up your place.”
“How do you know if I need to clean up my place or not? You’ve never been here.”
“You’re twenty-four, right? I’m going to guess that your boxers are on the coffee table, there are pizza boxes on the floor, and the bong is on the back of the toilet. Yes?”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. “Go for your run, I’ll see you soon. And the bong isn’t in the bathroom.”
“Kitchen?”
“Maybe.”
I pressed. “Has it ever been in the bathroom?”
“Damn it, yes.”
“I am the master! Text me your order and your address and I’ll be along soon. I’m warning you, though: I’ll be all hot and sweaty from my run. You may not want to kiss me.”
“Not possible. I’m looking forward to the hot and sweaty. And, Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Run fast,” he said darkly.
“No problem. See you soon,” I replied.
I ran like my ass was on fire.
I made it to his apartment in less than sixty minutes, forgoing my usual longer run in favor of a more Jack-friendly workout. I had picked up his coffee, a grande espresso, and my iced mocha as well. I climbed the stairs to his door and knocked carefully, balancing the two cups.
When he opened the door, my breath drew in with a hiss. He was wearing a white T-shirt and low-slung jeans and was barefoot. The hair was curly perfection, and he hadn’t shaved for a few days. The roughness of his beard accented his jawbones, making him look virile and angelic at the same time. He was smiling at me while looking devilish. I said hello to him, walked past him into the hallw
ay, and continued into what I assumed was the living room. He said nothing, just followed me in. I could hear the soft slap of his bare feet on the wood floors. I turned around to hand him his coffee and he was right behind me. He took both cups and set them on the table.
“I got it with two sugars, just the way you—” I was silenced by his stare.
He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me into him. His green eyes were blazing, and his jaw set as his fingers touched the skin between my tank top and my track pants.
“Sorry, I told you I was going to be sweaty. Do you want me to—”
“Grace?” he said, interrupting me.
“Yes?”
“Shut the fuck up and enjoy this,” he whispered as he bent his head to mine.
He’s right, Grace. Shut the fuck up.
His lips touched mine, and where yesterday’s kiss had been sweet and amazing, today’s was serious. His mouth moved over mine urgently. I’d been dying to touch his hair since the first day I saw it, and now I dug in. I felt the silk and the softness of every strand as I wound my fingers through, drawing him closer to me. I sucked lightly on that damn lower lip, and when his tongue met mine I . . . thought . . . I . . . would explode.
His hands were rough on my hips, tugging me closer, and I could feel each fingerprint pressing into my skin. My senses were so heightened that I could even feel slight calluses on his left hand as they dragged toward my belly. I moaned into his mouth, feeling my skin pebble and shiver. He pulled back for a nanosecond and inhaled, gazing at me through heavy eyes, and then leaned in for more.
His lips trailed down my jaw toward my neck, and I turned my head to give it all to him. It was my sweet spot, the one that made my toes point . . . yep, they were pointing. He used his tongue to tickle his way from my collarbone up to my ear, stopping to nibble and nip here and there. I pulled my right hand away from his hair and began running my fingertips up and down his back, feeling his strong muscles through his thin shirt. His hands returned to my hips, pushing me backward until I felt my legs hit the table. He stopped then and lifted his head from my neck to look at me. I took the opportunity to snake my hands around to the front, slipping them under his shirt and letting them feather across his stomach. He closed his eyes.
“You’re driving me crazy, Sheridan,” he groaned, pushing me back onto the table.
“You like crazy, remember?” I quipped, scrambling up so that I was sitting with him in between my legs. “Now, come get your crazy,” I whispered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back down to me.
It was hot.
He was hot.
I was hot. I was really hot. I was almost . . . uncomfortably hot. I was . . . burning?
“Ow ow ow!” I shouted, pushing him off me and springing off the table. “What the what?” I cried, feeling my back. I had lain right on his espresso and knocked it over, and it was now all over my back and sweet mother-of-pearl it was hot! It was dripping off the side of the table and onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” he exclaimed, unsticking my shirt from my back and holding it away from my body so I could get a little airflow.
“Yes! Goddamn it, that hurts!” I cried. And what the hell, who makes out with someone as hot as this guy and then lies in hot coffee?
You do, Grace.
“You’d better take that off. It’s cooling now,” he observed, staring at the coffee destruction that I had inflicted on my shirt.
“Ya think?” I asked, more frustrated that the kissing had stopped than that my back was probably blistering. I could tell he was concerned that I’d really hurt myself, but there was also a twinkle beginning to build in his eye. He was trying not to laugh as he continued to hold my shirt away from my back.
“If I take this shirt off, I’ll be topless. No bra, mister, can you handle that?” I inquired.
“Why don’t we just take a look at your back first, make sure you’re okay? Then I’ll see about handling you,” he said teasingly, still trying not to laugh.
I turned around and grasped my tank top, pulling it slowly up toward my shoulders. As I revealed my back to him, I heard him gasp.
“Yeah, that’s right. Liking the view?” I asked, swaying my hips suggestively. I peered over my shoulder in what I thought was a seductive gaze.
He was frowning. “Settle down, Crazy Girl, you’re really red back here. Let me get you some ice. Stay here.”
He walked into the kitchen and I could hear him puttering about. He came back in a minute, holding a Ziploc bag filled with ice and wrapping a kitchen towel around it. He took my elbow and began leading me into his bedroom. I still had my shirt pulled up around my chin, trying to keep the girls under cover in front. I saw him sneak a glance down and then shake his head. He was smiling that sexy little half grin.
“You’re in quite the compromising position.”
“Compromise this,” I shot back as we walked into his bedroom. It smelled like Febreze. I could tell he had just straightened up right before I got there, and I was touched.
He guided me over to the bed. “Right then, you lie down, and I’m gonna put this on your back. It should feel better. I promise I won’t peek,” he stated as I stood in front of him. I stretched up on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his neck and then kicked off my sneakers.
“Close your eyes,” I whispered.
He grinned and his eyes slammed shut dramatically.
I lifted my shirt off over my head and dropped it on the floor. As it hit the tops of his feet, he smiled again.
“You promised, no peeking,” I said, moving over to his bed.
“I know. I’m trying. You’re kind of killin’ me here. Let me know when you’re settled,” he said softly.
“All right, I’m good. You can open now.” I had settled myself on the middle of his bed, lying on my tummy, facing him. I had grabbed a pillow and placed it below me, and it was keeping me covered. Mostly. I might have arranged my cleavage a little.
He opened his eyes and took me in. “Why the hell couldn’t you have spilled some on your pants, too, Grace?” he said jokingly, sitting next to me. “Hold still, here comes the ice.” He gently placed the towel-wrapped ice bag on the place where it was the most red, and I hissed involuntarily.
“Does that hurt much?” he asked, his other hand running up and down my arm soothingly.
“No, not too much. It’s just the cold.”
I looked around his room and noticed a guitar in the corner. I’d have to remember to ask him about that.
I sighed dramatically.
“What’s that about?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. When I imagined me being topless in your bedroom, there wasn’t an ice pack involved,” I said.
“You are not the only one who’s imagined you topless in here. Who knew you’d sustain an injury, though?” he answered.
“Well, I’m here. And I am topless.”
“Yes, and still burned. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself further,” he said firmly.
I looked at him. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me with the ice bag in one hand, holding it to my back. His other hand was still on my arm. He looked like a piece of heaven and I couldn’t resist him. He was too delicious.
I sat up, with my hands still covering me. He slid the ice off my back. I reached out my hands to him, leaving me open to his gaze. His eyes widened and a slow grin spread across his face. I pushed him back onto the pillows and swung one leg over.
“It’s okay, Hamilton. I’ll just have to be on top.”
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
Nice move, Grace. Now go get yours.
We did not do the deed. That would have been too easy, too soon. It would’ve been amazing, but amazing too soon. As I drove home, my mind kept flashing on images that were particularly pleasant.
His eyes, staring up at me as I straddled him, running my hands through my hair, smirking down at him . . .
His hands, when he touched me for the first time. H
e’d run them slowly from my hips to my belly and then proceeded with agonizing slowness to my breasts. He watched my face for approval as he circled them, caressing the sides of each before gently kneading my skin. I had moaned when his fingertips brushed against my nipples, which hardened instantly.
His soft smile, as he watched me begin to come undone . . .
His strength, as he sat up underneath me, nuzzling at my neck. He’d been so careful not to touch my back, using my hips to guide me closer to him. I only cringed slightly when he grasped me there; I wasn’t quite as self-conscious as I had once been. I had lost my hands in his hair again. His breath had gotten heavier and more uneven as I pressed my hips downward onto him, eliciting a groan that made my blood boil and my tummy flip.
His lips, as he pressed them farther down my neck toward my breasts. I had arched backward to get better leverage, and he kissed down between them. He had planted soft kisses all over, between, below, and around.
His tongue, when he finally took my right nipple into his mouth. He had sucked torturously, running his tongue back and forth before releasing it with a nibble. He grinned wickedly at me as he watched my reaction.
It had been unreal. There were truly no words.
When we’d finally broken apart, panting heavily, we’d just stared at each other with lust. My lips were swollen from his more passionate kisses and his stubble. I was still sitting on his lap, my legs wrapped around him. He laid his head on my chest, nudging my head back so he could snuggle into the nook between my shoulder and breast. His strong arms encircled me, making sure there was no space between our skin. I trailed my hands gently through his hair again, using my fingernails to massage his scalp. This was something I’d quickly discovered that he loved.
He had sighed contentedly and asked, “How is it possible that I have only known you a few days?”
“I know. I know,” I said soothingly, pulling him even closer to me. The franticness of earlier had segued into smooth, easy touching and feeling and comforting and closeness. It was sweet.
“How’s your back?” he asked, cuddling closer to me. I felt his warm breath on my chest.
The Redhead Series Page 7
