I’d rather hit you. “No.” The refusal was automatic and curt. As soon as the word left Heath’s mouth, he realized he had no right to answer for Phoebe. He tried to backpedal. “I mean, I thought I’d crash early. Before the, um, baseball game tomorrow.”
“The baseball game that doesn’t start until five?” Phoebe asked with a bemused smile.
“What are you, fifty?” Cam scoffed as he stood.
Heath made himself meet Phoebe’s eyes, trying to look sincere. “If you want to go without me...” Please, please don’t.
She was quiet for a long enough moment to make him nervous, then she shook her head. “We’ve been sitting by this gorgeous pool all afternoon without actually enjoying it. I think I’m going to swim a few laps, shower and maybe order something decadent from room service. But, Cam, you should go to some clubs. You’re a great dancer,” she said, lessening the sting of her refusal. “I wouldn’t want Miami to miss out on your moves.”
He smiled reflexively, but shot Heath a hard look. “I guess I’ll catch up with the two of you tomorrow.”
“Or the next day,” Heath said, feeling a tightness in his chest ease. “After all, we’ve got the ballgame and that sous chef invited you to go on the South Beach food tour.”
“Well, if nothing else, I know I’ll see plenty of you on Wednesday.” They had the cab ride and all that time at the airport gate. Did Cam somehow think he had a shot of rekindling his romance with her by the time passengers started boarding? “Until then.” He leaned down and kissed Phoebe on the top of the head.
It was a quick peck, with nothing sexual or disrespectful about it. Yet Heath had never wanted to shove someone into a pool so badly. His hands balled into fists that didn’t relax until Cam had left the pool area and the wrought iron gate swung shut behind him.
Phoebe was digging through her tote bag. Once she’d found an elastic band, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and stood. “Getting in the pool with me?”
“Absolutely.” He had to chuckle when she went down the steps and inched her way into the water by slow degrees. In contrast, he went to the deep end and cannonballed. When he came up for air, shaking water from his head like a German shepherd, she still hadn’t made it in up to her shoulders. “I don’t mean to rush you, but how long does this submersion process of yours take?” he called. “You do realize we have tickets to a baseball game tomorrow? I’d like to get there in time for pitching practice.”
“Har har.” She rolled her eyes—a gesture he sensed more than saw with the distance between them. “So I don’t dive in blindly. My way works, too, hotshot. It just requires patience.”
“Are patience and wimpiness the same thing?” he said, goading her.
Her hands went to her hips. “Speaking on behalf of womankind, it might be appreciated if you men learned how to take your time more.”
He stalked through the water toward her. “Was that a complaint, Mars? Or a challenge? Because I assure you, I can go very slowly if that’s what you want.”
“You know it wasn’t a complaint.” Her voice had turned husky. “These past couple of nights have been...” She seemed to give herself a mental shake. “Maybe you’re right, and I should just get this over with.” Then she disappeared under the water.
She surfaced about a yard away from him. “Tell me the truth—” She scrunched up her nose and muttered something under her breath before asking, “Did you say no to Cam’s invitation because you know I’m more of a homebody than a party girl?”
“What? I said no because I didn’t want to share you with a hundred glamorous strangers.” Or with Cam. “I wanted you all to myself. What was that you were mumbling about truth?”
“Oh.” She kicked her legs out in front of her, scissoring past him at a lazy speed. “I just think it’s a tad hypocritical for me to demand the truth when part of my reason for this trip sprang from trying to deceive someone.”
Heath stilled. Yes, he’d thrown out making her ex jealous as an initial excuse for spending time together, but deception had nothing to do with what was between them now. There’d been nothing false about how she’d responded to him last night, about the bliss of losing himself inside her and watching her back arch as an orgasm shuddered through her. Every kiss they’d shared had been its own truth. Jesus—you’re not actually going to say that, are you? What was happening to him?
Instead, he joked, “I was never much of a truth guy. I preferred dare.”
“Truth or dare—man, Gwen used to cause more trouble at slumber parties with that game.”
“I can imagine.”
“I haven’t played in years.” She pulled herself onto a bench built into the wall of the pool. “Truth or dare, Heath?”
“Dare.”
She nodded crisply, her long ponytail stirring the water. “I dare you to tell the truth—”
“You cheated.” Devious vixen.
“Have you ever been in love?”
The question startled him. She’d known him for years. Why probe at his romantic past now? Did it have anything to do with her spending all day with a former love?
“Yes,” he admitted. “I have been in love, believe it or not. I was a sophomore in college, and I met her in November. I fell so hard that even though we’d only been dating a few weeks, I invited her to spend Thanksgiving with my family. Where she met my stepbrother.” He scowled.
His feelings for Tara had long ago faded into dusty memory, but it still stung that his erstwhile champion had been the one to betray him. “Victor is two years older than me, and was thrilled when our parents got married. He could have been a dick about it, annoyed to suddenly have a little brother in the house, sharing his wealth and privilege, but he treated me well from day one. And he influenced others to do the same.” Vic had stared down those who called Heath “chunk.” Or the even more vicious “lard-ass.”
It was under Victor’s guidance that Heath had developed his self-esteem, not letting others’ opinions define him. Then when his growth spurt had hit and his outward appearance caught up to his confidence, his popularity had exploded—especially when he went away to college, where no one had memories or awkward photos of the kid he’d been before.
His freshman year of university had been a very good year.
He tried to focus on those memories and not the anguish of standing up as Victor’s best man. “I didn’t know it at the time, but Victor kissed my girlfriend while we were there at Thanksgiving. They swore to each other it would never happen again, but then I made the mistake of bringing her home for Christmas.” His mouth twisted. “They were engaged a year and a half later. She’s currently expecting twins.”
“Oh, Heath.”
He gave a shrug of manly nonchalance. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“Still, I’m so sorry. Sorry for what they did and sorry I pried.” She pushed off the wall and swam toward him. “Did you start your no-relationship policy after they got together?”
“No, I went out and found myself another girlfriend, determined to be happy and wildly in love. It wasn’t until I brought her home for the first time, eager to show off how successfully I’d recovered, that she and I both realized I wasn’t over Tara. My girlfriend felt understandably betrayed, and the breakup was messy. After that came a string of casual affairs. I had one pretty serious girlfriend while I was getting ready to open Piri. There were days I worked ten or twelve hours—you know how it is—and she felt neglected. When she left in tears, I decided that maybe I’d be better off just sticking to the affairs, easy arrangements where no one was hurt by unfulfilled expectations.”
He knew how some people saw him. A particularly angry ex had once used the word womanizer, which he resented. “I don’t date as some kind of payback for a broken heart. I just don’t see how it would be fair to a woman to drag out a relationship with no future.”
“But if you found someone you thought you could have a future with?” Phoebe asked softly.
“Has
n’t happened yet.” Really? Or had he met a woman he could imagine falling for...except that she was with someone else at the time?
Phoebe wound her arms around his neck. “I’m sure your stepbrother has many fine qualities,” she said in a skeptical tone that belied her words, “but your girlfriend was a fool to give you up.”
“Very true. But if she’d had better taste in men, we might not be here now, and I wouldn’t get to appreciate how lovely you look in the moonlight.” He lowered his head slowly, kissing her with teasing gentleness. She sighed into his mouth, her tongue meeting his in the same slow, unhurried rhythm she’d used to glide through the water.
But then she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands dropped to her hips and he cradled her closer against him, his kisses growing hungrier.
When he raised his head, he could hear his own ragged breathing. “Truth or dare, Phoebe?”
“Truth,” she said promptly.
As expected. “Tell me the truth—are you brave enough to hand me your bikini top?”
Pulling away, she gave him a glare of mock outrage. “That sounds like a dare in disguise.”
“Oh, were we playing by the rules?” he asked silkily. “I thought, given the way you cheated...”
She dragged her hand through the water, then scooped her arm up to splash him.
Laughing, he wiped droplets from his eyes. “I take it that’s your ungracious way of saying no, you aren’t brave enough?”
She pursed her lips, her expression turning stubborn. When she turned her head to study the surrounding pool area, as if she might actually remove her top, lust roared through him. There was no one else here, and they didn’t hear anyone on the path beyond. He held his breath, the only sound the evening breeze rustling through the palm trees.
Almost as if in slow motion, she reached her arms behind her back, untying the knot between her shoulder blades. The pale material floated in front of her breasts, bobbing on the water but still covering her. Then she crossed her arms behind her neck. When she dropped them again, the bikini top drifted away from her. Her body was creamy perfection, the moonlight glistening on her wet breasts, and her nipples were tight, puckered buds he couldn’t wait to lick and suck again.
He took one step toward her, and she gave him a coy smile.
“I think I’ve had enough of the pool for tonight,” she said, inching backward.
He considered persuading her to stay, but there were so many more things he could do to her in the room, without risk of being caught and thrown off hotel property. So he remained where he was, enjoying the view. Her breasts bounced gently as she climbed the steps, each sway and jiggle going straight to his dick.
Giving him a saucy smile, she stepped into her sandals and wrapped a large beach towel around herself, tucking it in so securely it was practically a terry-cloth evening gown—strapless with a provocative slit at the leg worthy of the red carpet. She reached beneath the towel and gave a little wiggle as she shifted from one foot to the other. Then there was a splash next to him, temporarily jolting him from his mesmerized stare. It took him a second to realize the bottom half of her bikini had just landed next to him in the water.
Phoebe gave him a finger wave and sauntered toward the gate, leaving Heath with a raging hard-on and the certainty that nothing the Miami club scene offered could top the evening he was about to have.
* * *
I CAN’T BELIEVE I just did that. Phoebe almost giggled aloud at her own audacity, but she didn’t want to draw any extra attention to herself as she pressed the button for the elevator. As long as the towel stayed in place, she wasn’t actually exposing herself to anyone, but just the same, she’d prefer that other guests in the lobby went about their own business and didn’t look too closely.
Although she’d sure as hell enjoyed Heath’s gaze on her.
His expression of stunned reverence when her bikini top had floated away had been priceless. It was obvious he’d only been teasing her with his dare and hadn’t really expected her to do it. But untying those strings had been the least she could do after the way he’d opened up to her. For all that he was one of her best friends, he rarely discussed past relationships. Guess now I know why. It couldn’t be easy, spending time with his family and having to face his brother with someone Heath had once loved.
The elevator doors opened with a ding that almost made her jump, and she darted inside. But just as she was expelling a breath of relief that she had the elevator to herself, Heath appeared, his eyes glittering.
He gave her a smile that was either pure worship or dire warning.
She gulped.
“Quite a show you put on,” he said as the doors closed. “What’s your plan for an encore?”
Oh, boy. “I think I remember most of a tap-dance routine from middle school.”
His grin widened and he stepped closer, advancing until he’d backed her into the corner of the elevator. Her skin prickled with awareness, her senses awash in Heath—the jagged sound of his labored breathing, the warm, masculine musk of him after hours in the sun, the sleekness of his still-damp skin and corded muscle.
“I was thinking less tap and more nudity,” he murmured. “The only thing that’s keeping me from reaching for that towel is knowing there could be cameras in the elevator. Or would you like that, Phoebe? Being exposed to admiring eyes? Letting them enjoy the curve of your breasts, your firm, round ass, your creamy thighs?”
In reality, she didn’t want any such thing, but the words and the make-believe were thrilling. Even more thrilling? The way Heath was devouring her with his eyes, as if he’d never wanted anything more than he craved her. She loved that look, could get more addicted to it than she was to her morning coffee or dark chocolate.
The elevator chimed, letting them know they’d reached their floor. Heath pulled the key card from the pocket of his trunks and held it up with a smirk. “If you want me to let you into the room, you have to do what I say.” His deep, authoritative voice was more potent than any supposed aphrodisiac.
Her heart kicked into triple time, and she wanted him so much she almost launched herself into his arms then and there. Cameras, Pheeb, cameras. The mental warning didn’t lessen her ardor as much as it should have. “What do you want me to do?” she asked, her whispered voice thick with need.
“I want to watch you.”
That night in his loft came back to her, the words she’d confessed to him. I imagined him catching me naked. Imagined what it would be like for him to watch me touch myself. Heath was giving her the fantasy. She nodded, too turned on to articulate words.
They silently exited the elevator in unison. Part of her wanted to rush down the hall, but aching arousal left her too unsteady on her feet. Besides, it felt sexier to make him wait—make them both wait—and delay their mutual pleasure for these last few charged minutes. It wasn’t only being chilly from the pool that had her shivering as he opened the door.
“Wait.” He held out a hand, stopping her just inside the entryway. He went to the bed and turned on the wall-mounted reading light that shone down on the mattress. Leaving the rest of the suite in darkness, he stepped back, blending into the shadows.
A spotlight. Nerves somersaulted in the pit of her stomach, and her throat felt dry. She wavered for a split second. Was she the kind of girl who could do this?
Damn right you are. She was the kind of woman who could seize her own pleasure without guilt or apology. And in the meantime, she’d give Heath a night he’d never forgot. Affairs didn’t last forever, but the memories could. She strode toward the bed in its circle of muted light and let her towel fall to the floor.
As she reached the edge of the mattress, she stopped, cupping her breasts. They were so full, so heavy with sensation. She rubbed her thumbs over the taut peaks, letting her eyes close as her head fell back. After a moment, she stretched forward, giving Heath an eyeful of “firm, round ass” as she crawled onto the center of the bed. When she heard him hiss in a
breath, she smiled over her shoulder, unable to make out more than his broad silhouette in the dark corner of the room.
“I could be anyone,” he told her, his voice so strained it was almost unrecognizable. “Does that excite you?”
She didn’t answer, merely rolled onto her back, feet pointed toward him. Maybe later she’d tell him. The fantasy of a stranger, as hot as it was, couldn’t hold a candle to the reality of Heath as a lover. The things he’d done to her... She was surprised to find herself getting even more turned on. She’d been wet and swollen since walking into the room, so how did the memory of Heath’s hands on her make her even more horny? Wasn’t there a limit? Not with him.
She curled her fingers around her inner thigh, sliding her leg to the side, knowing she was on full display before him. Her other hand she trailed from between her breasts down her abdomen, stopping to swirl a slow circle around her navel before passing over the springy curls in the neatly trimmed V between her legs. Heath groaned, and she felt the vibration of it rumble through her. Instead of going directly for her clitoris, she skated her fingers over the velvety folds, her skin dewy with her own juices. On impulse, she raised one finger to her lips, tasting the earthy flavor.
Heath tensed, and his body jerked forward. She thought he was about to join her on the bed.
While she would have welcomed him inside her, she was glad when he remained where he was, giving them this decadent experience. Her hand returned to her core, and this time she pushed her middle finger against the engorged bud. Fleeting shyness gripped her. Heath had seen her naked repeatedly—had undressed her himself and filled her deeply. How was it possible that this felt more intimate, more vulnerable, than sex?
“Phoebe.” His voice had a raw, broken quality to it that sent her into motion.
She rubbed in an urgent rhythm, throwing her other arm across her closed eyes. This wasn’t about gauging his reaction or worrying about how she looked in an abandoned moment. This was about the escalating need pounding through her and chasing the hovering climax that promised to reduce her to ruin. She twisted her hips, writhing against her own hand as tremors started deep within her. Still stroking her clit, she lowered her other hand so that she could penetrate herself with two fingers.
Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits) Page 13
