Drawn Deep (Afternoon Delight Book 2)

by Taryn Quinn

  How had she gotten sick so fast? In the last two years, she hadn’t had so much as a fever. Now all of a sudden she’d been laid flat by the mother of all bugs.

  Yawning, she inched across the bed and grabbed her phone. After placing a quick call to the bird sanctuary, she sank into her pillows and stared at the ceiling with blurry eyes. Her oversized nightgown clung to her, and she desperately needed a shower. She glanced down at her attire and winced. God, had Brad really seen her in this?

  And partially out of it too.

  She moaned and rolled over, dragging her pillow over her head. Maybe blissful unconsciousness would claim her again, and she could forget she’d come onto Kim’s brother while in a cold-induced fog. Come onto didn’t actually cover it. She’d commanded him to orally please her, for God’s sake.

  And he had. Oh, he had.

  How could she ever face him again?

  Their brief conversation in the middle of the night didn’t count. She’d been half-asleep and feverish. His sweet attempts to take care of her had lulled her into not erecting her usual boundaries, whatever ones she had left.

  Him seeing her sick wasn’t bad enough. Why not go for utter mortification? Flipping up her ginormous, old-fashioned nightgown and expecting him to distract her with pleasures of the flesh had been a great plan. They’d totally go back to their comfortable friendship now, despite the fact that he knew what she tasted like. And how she got really rough in the throes of climax. She’d probably yanked out clumps of his thick, silky hair.

  “Ugh!” She groaned again and pulled the pillow down tight over her ears. Maybe she’d had a nightmare. Sometimes she did if she ate weird things before going to sleep. More than once she’d consumed Brad’s late-night junk food creations and paid for it afterward. But this went way beyond indigestion from fried bologna and pickle sandwiches. This was complete and total humiliation.

  “Morning, Sara Smile.”

  She went dead still in the center of her bed, forgetting even to breathe. No. Didn’t he have to work? It was Monday morning.

  “Go away,” she pleaded, hoping he’d get the message. Now that the cough syrup was out of her system—hard to believe she could have such an extreme reaction to routine medication, but there you go—she could view this situation with an objective eye.

  Brad simply wanted a rebound affair with someone he found reasonably attractive, preferably a woman who wouldn’t be difficult to extricate himself from afterward. He knew she wasn’t clingy. Maybe he even had a thing for older women.

  She was nice-looking, even pretty, but parts of her body sagged that did not sag on the women he usually dated. She wasn’t blonde or particularly stacked. Her jeans were not size four or six. She had long hair, yes, but that was due to the ease of putting it up rather than a desire to seem young and sexy.

  She was a doctor, an ornithologist. A professional. She wouldn’t start up some sort of sordid, reality TV-worthy affair with a guy young enough to—

  Eat your pussy with enough skill to make you scream?

  “Unhhh!” She thudded her forehead against the bed and prayed for oblivion.

  The mattress dipped under his weight and she realized, much to her dismay, that time had not stood still while she rated herself on his potential scale. Dammit.

  “Sara?” He tugged at her pillow but she wouldn’t let go. Nope. If she had to stay hiding under this pillow until he moved away from home, then that was exactly what she would do.

  Instead of continuing to try to loosen her grip, he let go. Suspicious, she pushed up on her hands and knees as cool air swept over her heated flesh. Before she could protest, he yanked up her infernal nightgown and placed a kiss on her bare ass.

  She shivered. She simply couldn’t help it. And he laughed, the low, prideful sound curling her toes and dampening the traitorous area between her legs that refused to allow her to be levelheaded about him.

  She’d never had a problem with that before. Before she’d known the joy of his lips and his tongue and his hard body wrapping around hers in the night…

  God, she was fucked.

  He slid the nightgown higher and trailed kisses over the small of her back. “Want me to keep going?” he murmured, tracing the crack of her ass with one silken fingertip.

  “Where’s Kim?” she whispered.

  “Work. She went in early. Lucky for us she wasn’t here last night. Apparently her new guy picked her up before I got home. I wondered if she heard when you—”

  “Can we not talk about that? Please?”

  “Why? Are you embarrassed? I’m not. I wish I’d taped your sexy moans so I could replay them when I’ve got my cock in my hand and I’m thinking about you.”

  She tossed aside the pillow and rolled over, shoving her tangled mass of hair out of her eyes. “You expect me to believe you masturbate to thoughts of me?”

  The corner of Brad’s mouth tipped up. “Whatever clinical term you prefer, yeah, I do expect you to believe it. In fact, the next time you hear the shower running in my bathroom, why don’t you come inside and see for yourself?”

  “That you jerk off doesn’t prove you’re thinking about me. Even if you are, what does that mean? Other than you’ve developed some kind of unhealthy fixation.”

  “Unhealthy? Says who?” One eyebrow winged up, disappearing under the golden hair that crossed his forehead. He’d let his hair grow longer than he usually did, and she didn’t know if she liked it.

  Oh hell, who was she kidding? She’d like him with a full wig or bald. Naked or dressed. Though at the moment she certainly preferred him one way over the other.

  “You’re not my Tim Robbins,” she said in a small voice, well aware she was fighting a losing battle. Again. Why did she even bother when she knew how good it would feel to give in?

  She licked her lips as her gaze drifted over his loose navy T-shirt half-tucked into skintight black jeans. The man wore denim well. He wore everything well.

  No one else needs to know what happens here between us.

  That sounded better all the time.

  “Never said I was. Though Susan Sarandon’s pretty hot, so I don’t blame him for going there. Sucks they broke up though.” He held up a hand when she started to speak, his eyes narrowing. “If you say they split because she’s old, I’ll take you across my knee and—”

  “What?” she asked breathlessly after he fell silent.

  He expelled a breath. “You piss me off, you know that?”

  “I didn’t know you ever got pissed off.” Because the urge to crawl into his lap was growing by the millisecond, she forced herself to kick off the sheet and roll out of bed.

  “Get back here,” he said in little more than a growl.

  His deep voice skated over her skin, the erotic potential in his demand tightening her nipples. “Or what?” She shot him an arch look before she headed into the attached bathroom to face herself in the mirror.

  When she had, she wished she hadn’t. “Oh my God.”

  “What?” He was up and in the doorway in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

  “Look at me.” Leaning forward, she tugged at the gaping neckline of her nightgown. He’d never tied it back up again. “I’m a mess.”

  “Didn’t notice.”

  “Right.” Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste. She waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move from the doorway. “Mind?”

  “Uncomfortable with me here?”

  She shrugged and uncapped the toothpaste. “Suit yourself.”

  He wandered over to the basket of fancy soaps and bottles of body wash she had on the shelf in the shower. “You use all this stuff?” he asked, sorting through her collection.

  “Most of it. Some only on special occasions.” She loaded up her toothbrush and turned on the water. If he wouldn’t leave, she’d try to be as discreet as possible.

  Once she’d finished, she put away the toothpaste and sighed as he continued to pick through her belongings. It would�
��ve been almost cute, if she didn’t feel completely grungy and incapable of dealing with company. Though he technically wasn’t, because she lived with him, and he already knew parts of her pretty damn well.

  She flushed and glanced away. Enough thoughts about that.

  “Which are for special occasions?”

  “The honeysuckle ones.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re really expensive. I buy a new product in the line whenever I’m celebrating something big. Graduation from my doctoral program, when I moved here, my new job at the sanctuary. They commemorate big changes in my life.”

  “Kind of like my torque wrenches.” He shot her a grin over his shoulder and set down the pink poufy sponge he’d been toying with. “Although a good month financially is sometimes a big enough reason for me to get one. The guys at the shop love them and hell, why not? What good is money if you never live a little?”

  He made an excellent point. What good was anything if you didn’t enjoy life? If you didn’t say to hell with it every once in a while and go for something crazy and wild because you could?

  Because it felt so damn right?

  “Speaking of the guys at the shop, shouldn’t you be at work right now instead of babysitting me?”

  “One of the perks of being the boss. I can be a little late now and then. Or a lot late,” he added meaningfully.

  She swallowed and faced the mirror. Lovely. She still had to deal with the hornet’s nest on her head. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. Then she yanked her brush out of the basket on the vanity and tackled the worst of the snarls.

  “It’s hopeless,” she muttered.

  “Hardly.” He came up behind her. “Give me the brush.”

  “Why?” Her pulse galloped like a runaway horse. “So you can paddle my ass?”

  “Now there’s a thought. No, so I can take care of this for you.”

  “I’m going to shower soon. You really don’t have to bother.“

  “It’s easier to wash your hair if it’s untangled, right?” he asked, his voice oozing patience.

  “Yeah, I suppose.” She handed over her brush, figuring he’d poke at her until she gave in anyway. He dragged the bristles through her hair, roughly at first. Her wince caused him to gentle his strokes. Soon he was brushing the full length in long, even glides, caressing her scalp with each movement.

  Her breath trembled out from between her parted lips, and she closed her eyes, somehow embarrassed by how intimate this looked reflected in the glass. If he’d been kneeling before her with his mouth between her legs, she wouldn’t have shied away from watching him. But his hot expression as he pleasured her this way drove the intensity level between them up by miles.

  “Good enough.” She cleared her throat and shifted to look at him, maintaining eye contact even when she wanted to retreat and put a little distance between them. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He wound a strand around his finger, pulling lightly. “I bet you want that shower.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sure this is my cue to leave.”

  In lieu of an answer, she reached for the gaping open vee of her nightgown. Despite its lack of style, she’d kept it for nights she wanted comfort. Nights she spent alone, or in bed with a man who eventually grew to view her as not much more provocative than the furniture. Pete had certainly never looked at her like this, his stare following her fingers as if he couldn’t wait to see what she revealed.

  “I’d really rather you stay,” she murmured.

  Would you like to read more?

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  UNWRAPPED

  a MMF Romance

  One hot night. Three naughty best friends. What can possibly go wrong?

  When an upcoming birthday makes Caitlyn Sachs decide to seek a gift that doesn't come in a box—a no-strings hookup to finally lose her pesky virginity—there's just one problem.

  She doesn’t want only one guy. She wants two.

  The men she can't pick between just happen to be her best friends and business partners, Matthew Collins and Tristan Baldwin. And both men want each other too, much to her surprise.

  Then Matt offers a shocking suggestion.

  She should lose her virginity not once, but twice. To them.

  After being kidnapped and spirited away to a remote cabin in the mountains, Cait is ready to unwrap her Christmas present—her two sinful men—over and over again.

  First time, first threesome, first time she didn't want a night to ever end.

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  Read on for an excerpt…

  Chapter 1

  When plotting to finally lose your virginity, it was important to keep your eye on the prize.

  In this case, the one between her legs.

  A relationship? Not necessary. But someone she trusted was a must.

  Caitlyn Sachs blew out a breath and gazed around the kitchen in her mom’s small place. Relationships were tricky business, as evidenced by her mother and her sisters’ issues with their significant others. It was hard to find a decent guy, one who wouldn’t feed you a line and then vanish when you turned your back. At least that was all she’d seen while growing up.

  At almost twenty-five, Cait’s record was virtually spotless. Sure, she’d gotten her heart dented a few times, but she’d managed to avoid the trainwreck relationships her friends and family had been sucked into.

  And that still-happened-to-be-a-virgin thing? Merely a technicality, because she’d certainly done her share of messing around. She’d done almost everything but the deed itself.

  Multiple times.

  But hell, she was tired of having the expectation of her first time looming ahead. She knew it would probably be shitty, so she needed to get on to having good sex. Finally. Her irrational fear of an unplanned pregnancy was getting old. She’d gone on birth control as soon as she’d made the decision to have sex, and she’d insist on condoms too.

  See, she was thinking practically.

  “Marnie, settle those kids down. I can’t think with all this racket,” Mrs. Sachs said, bracing the hand that held her spatula on her hip.

  “Jeez, Mama, what do you want me to do? Stuff something in their mouths?”

  “Maybe. If it’ll quiet this place down, then yes.”

  Cait braced her head on her hand and tried not to breathe in the scent of burnt onions and too much perfume.

  She could be out Christmas shopping instead of dealing with the insanity of home. Home meant her younger sisters and their babies and her frustrated mother.

  Cait understood frustration. Just not the same kind. Hers was all situationally based.

  She sighed. Eh, she didn’t feel like shopping right now. Too much on her mind. But she could be getting a manicure. Maybe even seeing a movie with one of her best friends, assuming she could drag Tristan away from his desk or Matthew away from the game on TV. But no, she’d come home to do her duty, though at the moment she would’ve preferred to be anywhere else.

  They were her guys. Her center in all ways. And maybe after this weekend, one of them would be that much more.

  Perhaps one of them would be her lover, at least temporarily.

  It wasn’t like she could choose between Matt and Tristan. She loved them both equally. Plus they were hot as hell. That the three of them lived together in the loft above Tristan Design, their graphic design business, only made it that much easier to coordinate. Slide in, slide out, cross the hall, and shut the door.

  This weekend, she’d make her proposal. Whether that proposal would be well received was anyone’s guess, but she suspected that was part of why she felt so antsy tonight.

  She needed to speak up before she chickened out.


  Another reason she’d chosen to sleep with Tristan or Matt. This would be on her terms. She could control the parameters, say when it began and when it ended. They’d never push her.

  In the meantime, she had to push herself and get home. She had a deflowering to arrange. Though in her case it wasn’t deflowering so much as a…deadheading. She grinned. Yeah, that worked. She’d be snapping off a worn-out worry she’d carried around way too long.

  She rose to her feet as her mother and her sister Marnie started arguing about how they’d fit a nursery into an already crowded three-bedroom apartment. Before she could leave, her baby sister, Valerie, rushed through the back door into the kitchen, her golden hair hidden by her hooded sweatshirt. Under her arm she carried the basketball that seemed to be her constant companion. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she jogged through without stopping.

  “Val?” Cait hurried forward to grip her elbow. Out of all of them, Val was her favorite. At fourteen, Val was a straight-A student and already on the varsity basketball team. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Gotta study,” she said, not meeting Cait’s gaze.

  “Midterms week, huh? One reason Christmas sucks.” Smiling, Cait rubbed her shoulder. “Grades still good?” she asked, raising her voice above her mother and Marnie’s argument. Thank God her other sister Ginny had finally herded Marnie’s two kids and her own two into the living room. “Should we expect another perfect report card?”

  Val yanked back her sweatshirt, revealing the sunny twin ponytails she usually hid under hoods and ball caps. “Grades are fine.”

  Cait frowned. Normally Val was a chatterbox, but tonight she seemed unwilling to say much at all. Strange. Maybe the family drama was getting to her. “You know, you could always come stay with me at the loft for a couple of days,” she said in an undertone. “You could get more studying done.”

  “No, thanks.” Val gave her big sister a weak smile. “I just lock myself in my room.”