by Mel Curtis
Amber spun around. “Evan?”
One tall, wet basketball player stepped close enough for her to make out his foreboding features, to hear the drops of water hit the pavement as he shook out his black T-shirt.
“You want to explain?”
“Sorry.” Adrenaline left her knees trembling. “You seem to have gotten caught in the cross-fire.”
“Is this some kinky sex game you and Decklin play?” Evan’s voice promised retribution.
Amber peered past him, trying to discern whether a black SUV was at the curb.
“Decklin’s not out here. Does he drive an SUV? One pulled away as I drove up.”
“That would be the red capped photographer who’s been harassing me every night.” Amber sighed. She’d have to fill more balloons and wait up longer for his return.
“The guy from Patrick’s?”
“Yes. Look, I’d ask you in, but I need to get ready for his next drive-by.” Was she brave enough to hide out in the bushes by the sidewalk and wait? In the dark? Heck no.
Evan filled the doorway. “So Decklin isn’t here?”
“Why would Kent…?” Amber redirected her attention to the large, dripping man occupying shadows in front of her. A wave of awareness washed over her, sending heat to body parts that should have known better then to overheat when this man was near.
The old clock on the mantel chimed midnight. There was no photographer lurking outside. And even if there had been, there wasn’t enough light to take a decent photo. If ever there was a perfect moment to give in to sin, it was now. But Amber couldn’t do it, not when she cared for Evan and he…well, he just wanted her really bad.
Amber wet her lips and forced air into her lungs. “As you can see I’m fine, fully capable of defending myself. Good night.”
His chuckle promised trouble. “How about a good night kiss first, Rambo?”
Amber took an involuntary step backward, thrusting her right hand at him. “I think it’s more appropriate for a life coach to shake, don’t you?”
“No,” Evan growled as he gathered Amber up against him and fed her a kiss that sent a bolt of electricity through her limbs, knocking out her defenses. His lips were hot against hers, his tongue demanding conditions, as if to say the time for evasive maneuvers and repartee was over. The time had come to yield.
“Invite me in,” Evan murmured against her mouth. There was something different about him tonight. He was always challenging. But tonight he was purposeful.
Amber drifted closer to accepting Evan’s offer on a current of heat and spent adrenaline. There would be ramifications. There was no way a force as intensely powerful as Evan Oliver wouldn’t leave damage in his wake. Her heart was in the danger zone, as was her reputation. And yet, she was willing to risk opening herself up if only to dance closer to the fire that was Evan.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Evan blazed a trail of kisses beneath her chin, paused to nibble on her neck below her ear. “Invite me in, Amber. Or I swear, I’ll walk away forever and we’ll both regret it.”
How could Amber fight the truth of that? She capitulated.
Cradling Evan’s face in her hands, Amber looked up into his eyes and whispered, “Come in.”
Instead of accepting Amber’s invitation, Evan kissed her possessively in the doorway, his arms encircling her, eliminating the distance between their bodies until there was nothing between them but cotton, his wet. Amber’s nipples tightened from the contact, from the cold that was seeping through her T-shirt and into her bra. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to hold her breath and savor this moment when they both called a truce with desire.
Somehow Evan managed to close the door and lock it, moving Amber slowly back into the house in a sensual dance that made her giggle. She laughed again in the midst of Evan’s kiss, despite his hands stroking her back and bottom, despite the building need. She laughed because she was free to touch, to explore and to give the gift of herself to this complex man.
And then Amber realized the Foundation secrets were behind her. If Evan crossed the living room to her wing, she’d have to turn the lights on when he left. He’d see Dooley’s pictures. He’d ask. He’d wonder.
There was only one detour to make. To the left. To her father’s wing.
Evan chose that moment to lift Amber, wrapping her legs around his waist. His strides would have carried them past the leftward hallway, but Amber grabbed onto the corner of the wall.
“Down here,” she whispered, refusing to think about where she was taking him. Amber had to concentrate on the good things – his breath mingling with hers, his hands stroking her body, his arms holding her as if he’d never let go.
Evan found the bedroom, set her feet on the floor and reached to flick on the light.
“No.” Amber captured his hand and brought his palm to her mouth, learned its contours with her tongue. The bedroom was bathed in soft light from the moon, obscuring the details and the garishness.
“You’re so beautiful.” Evan’s words skimmed across Amber’s cheek like an urgent caress, making her believe she’d gotten rid of that awkward, insecure, overweight girl for good. “I want to see you.”
“Lights later.” After they’d fooled around once or twice and Amber snuck away to hide the twelve pictures, then she’d drag him to her room and turn on all the lights.
Amber spun Evan so that his back was to the light switch and cradled his face in her hands. She had to keep Evan’s attention on her. Her father’s collection of whips, leather collars and chains was within easy reach. She refused to speculate what Evan would say when he saw them. “We can look later.”
In the dim light, his gray eyes appeared dark and dangerous. “Strip.”
“Excuse me?”
“Here. Let me help.” In a flash he’d peeled away her damp T-shirt and skimmed her yoga pants down to her ankles, helping her to step out of them. With lips hovering just above hers, Evan’s flat hands skated over her bra, pressing deep into her peaks and valleys. “Lace. Very little padding. Clasp in the back. White?”
“Yes.” Amber expelled a ragged breath and licked his lips.
“Pity. I prefer black or nothing at all.” Evan brushed his mouth over hers while he reached around to slip the hooks off with nimble fingers. And then her breasts were free.
Amber stood before Evan in a thong, longing for his touch. A touch that didn’t come. “Why…why are you staring at me? It’s too dark in here to see anything.” Wasn’t it? She’d die of embarrassment if he saw the sexually explicit wallpaper, her father’s sex toys or the round water bed.
“I can see enough.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders, thumbs splayed on her collarbone. And then with agonizing slowness Evan dragged his hands down over her breasts, across the indentation of her stomach and around the fullness of her hips. Their return trip was made up the small of Amber’s back and along her spine until Evan dragged her against him for a soul deep kiss.
“Again,” Amber demanded when they came up for air, but first she made him get rid of his wet shirt so she could mirror his movements.
They repeated the process, again and again until they were panting and ripping off his shorts and her thong, scrambling for a condom. Still standing, Evan lifted Amber easily, helped her guide him inside, trembling right along with her as she stretched to accommodate him. And then they started moving.
“Ouch.” The light switch dug into Amber’s back.
Evan kept a slow rhythm totally unlike their previous encounter, even as he sidestepped to his right, bringing Amber closer to the wall of sex toys.
“No. Over there.” Pointing over his shoulder, Amber pulled back, taking him deep inside her, gasping as a ripple of pleasure threatened to build.
With sure steps Evan carried Amber, still impaled on him, across the room.
Amber couldn’t stop moving on Evan’s shaft, even as she realized they were headed toward the bed. “No,” she panted. “Not the bed.”
Evan stum
bled to the right, recovering with a crushing hold on her waist that sent the head of his penis against her. They were both sweaty and gasping. A few more deep thrusts and Amber was a goner. A few more…
They were on a collision course with the built in hot tub.
Amber raggedly filled her lungs to protest when Evan captured her mouth in a punishing kiss, silencing any coherent thought. And then Amber was falling… falling… falling forward into Evan…and into the hot tub.
Which wasn’t hot at all.
Amber shrieked and squirmed upward.
“Ssshh.” Evan held Amber firmly in place on his lap as the room temperature waves settled around them.
“It’s cold,” Amber pouted.
“Not here, it’s not.” And then Evan moved with a strength and delicious rigidity that made Amber realize there was one place in her body that was warm after all.
“Someday I’d like to fool around with you in a bed,” Evan said to Amber as they lay wrapped in a large red bath sheet on the carpet near the sliding glass door. “With enough light that I can watch your expression when you shatter.”
True to their elaborate, heated dance around their physical attraction, sex with Amber had been exhausting and exhilarating. Evan had done Senge proud, creating a nice long walk on the cliffs of heaven and outlasting Amber. His fingers and toes still ached from being immersed in cold water.
“Come morning, you’re going to turn into a pumpkin and disappear.” Amber’s head, wet curls and all, was tucked on his shoulder, her small hand circling his belly button.
“You expect me to do what I just did and turn into a fat, orange gourd.” Evan watched the moon ease between the tree tops as Amber’s hand drifted ever closer to his hips. If they weren’t still chilled he would have exposed all of Amber’s creamy perfection to the moon glow. He wanted to learn every inch of her, every curve, every sensitive spot. “No pumpkins in my future. I don’t have to leave until around ten.” For the team shoot around.
Amber’s hand tensed for half a heartbeat before her fingers began a walk up his chest. “The photographers usually show up outside by eight o’clock.”
“I don’t care about photographers.” Except the one that had been harassing Amber, who was in for a six-foot-six reality check. Evan nestled Amber’s hand over his heart, but the contact wasn’t enough so he rolled Amber onto his chest, trapping both of her hands in his to keep her lips near enough to nibble.
“You wouldn’t care. They take your picture all the time.” Amber’s damp hair spilled over Evan as she exposed her neck for him to feast upon.
“You read my mind,” Evan murmured, brushing her hair aside. “It’s a win-win situation. The photographer gets paid, the fans get what they want and the exposure adds to my bottom line. Tell me your business hasn’t improved from your recent exposure.” Evan nipped and suckled his way down Amber’s delicate throat, running his tongue lower until he tasted the skin between her breasts.
Amber’s sigh of pleasure dialed Evan’s horniness meter to the red zone, which was odd considering he usually got turned on when a woman stoked his fires, not the other way around. What would it be like to come home to a woman like Amber every day? To her optimism, stubbornness and dangerous curves?
“Everyone has secrets. Is it cowardly to want a little privacy?” With a knowing smile, Amber arched, stroking her hips against him.
“Isn’t that what we have behind closed doors?” Evan asked raggedly as he imprinted the image of Amber atop him into his memory – her dark eyes seeing only him, plump breasts thrusting proudly in the air, thin waist leading to rounded hips ready to rock his world. He reached for one of the condom packets he’d tossed on the floor earlier.
“My secrets have a habit of getting out.” Amber’s smile turned wicked as she held his gaze and slid down his body, until her mouth hovered over his wavering cock.
“Perhaps you need…boundaries.” Evan’s words came out in a strangled burst as Amber’s lips gave him a much longed for kiss. Don’t surrender. Breathe. Look away. But Evan was incapable of moving so much as an eyelid. A desperate need coiled within him and threatened to spring. What happened to his famed detachment? What happened to Senge’s instructions?
Amber’s eyes flickered toward his. The corners of her mouth were turned up as if she was enjoying the taste of him or enjoying torturing him. Or both.
Ignoring her protests, Evan lifted Amber free, rolled them both over and sheathed himself in a condom.
“Hurry.” Amber guided Evan to the heat between her legs, lifting her hips to take him.
“Slow,” Evan refuted Amber’s case for urgency as he slid into her heated womb further, deeper.
“You think too much,” Amber said, spearing her hands into Evan’s hair. Her hips moved in an enticing roll…and then another, each wave urging him faster when his control was in danger of slipping. “Feel. Feel us. Together.”
Evan was feeling. He wanted Amber to be in this same glorious agony, wavering on a precipice, knowing at any moment he’d fall. Evan bent to suckle Amber’s breast, swirling his tongue over her turgid nipple as if it was the sweetest candy.
She squirmed. “Evan – ”
“Slow.” His eyes locked on hers. He drew back until only the tip of him rested inside her. “Slow.”
“Please.” Her hands added to the plea, while his body shook to obey her command.
It was probably the hardest thing Evan had ever done, but he held himself still. “Slow.”
With a nod, Amber capitulated to Evan’s tempo, to his deep, deliberate strokes that drained them both until they collapsed together in a trembling heap of fulfillment.
Evan pulled Amber tightly against him, consumed with the need to absorb her, to have her so close he didn’t know where he ended and she began. In the back of his mind, Evan knew this feeling would alarm him tomorrow.
But tomorrow was hours away.
Chapter 33
L.A. Happenings by Lyle Lincoln
…Kent Decklin has bowed out of “Toys in the Attic”. The studio is scrambling to replace him and Cal Lazarus is worried about the project. Can’t help but recall that Viggo Mortensen was a last minute replacement in Lord of the Rings (look how well that turned out, Mr. Producer).
…There are rumblings that Wicked Tantric isn’t for the faint of heart or the bloom of new passion. Practicing Senge Tenzing’s techniques can test a man physically and mentally. Or is it just that L.A.’s women have developed a spellbinding power of their own that can bring a man to his knees?
“Coffee, sleepy head?” Evan’s voice filtered through the lazy haze of Amber’s dream of perfect sex with a basketball player with thick, dark hair and godlike stamina.
That was no dream. Amber jerked to a sitting position, giving herself a head rush, forcing her eyes to close again.
“Easy, tiger.” Evan’s arm came around her shoulders, solid and steady.
Maybe it had been a dream. Maybe she’d fallen asleep in the car waiting for Evan to get done with practice.
A large, warm hand slipped around her shoulder to cup her bare breast, to caress her nipple with his thumb.
“Oh, no.” Amber tamped down the tendrils of desire Evan’s touch ignited and opened her eyes. Oh, yes. She was naked all right. The scarlet bath sheet they’d used last night was pooled around her waist. Sunlight streamed in from the sliding glass door onto her face, which meant she was still in her dad’s room. They were in Dooley’s room and had been through three intense lovemaking sessions. Gone was the egotistical quick draw. In his place Amber had discovered a strong, sensitive lover who knew how to have mind blowing sex. One more flick of his thumb and her heart begged her to turn in Evan’s arms, to raise her lips for a morning kiss.
Panic kept her rigidly in place. She stole a glance at Evan’s face. She was mortified that she’d slept with him and exposed herself to further embarrassment. Over his shoulder Amber could see the wall of leather sex utilities, the Karma Sutra wallpaper and
the satin covered round water bed. Evan must think she was some kind of dominatrix, yearning to whip him to her bidding.
“Interesting décor.” Smiling, Evan gestured with a mug of coffee, while his other hand continued to fondle Amber’s breast. No one had ever made Amber feel such a contradictory combination of tenderness and desire.
Coffee. Amber tilted her head toward the ceiling and rolled her eyes. “The Zablonskis are in the kitchen, aren’t they?” Who else knew Evan had spent the night? Answer: anyone who noticed his screaming red sex machine in the driveway. She had to get him out of here.
“Bright and early. Six-twenty. Yvonne brought chocolate strudel. It’s as good as the Old Vienna Strudel Company. Want a taste?” Evan bent his head to touch Amber’s lips with his. When she didn’t respond, he sighed and straightened, dropping his dangerous hand to the floor.
Amber rebuked her heart’s pang. Evan had been out in the kitchen by way of the living room and seen the pictures that Amber hadn’t put back on the walls. Or maybe not.
“I left a mess out in the living room,” Amber fished.
And caught a big one. “The naked garden pictures?” Evan chuckled. “Got a little carried away and bought the entire collection, eh?”
“Something like that,” Amber mumbled, pulling the towel up to her armpits. Why had everyone seen naked women in the pictures but Amber? At least Evan didn’t seem to have seen anything other than naked women. That figured.
“So, I take it this isn’t your room.” Evan cast a glance over his shoulder at the whips, chains and collars on the wall. “I know. It belongs to Sonny and Yvonne. That Sonny. He’s an adventurous devil, isn’t he?”
“It’s my dad’s room,” Amber blurted, flooded with relief.
Evan stiffened against her. “Was. It was your dad’s. You always talk about your dad in the present tense.”
“I do not.” Amber took the coffee mug from Evan. He’d added so much cream and sugar it was nearly white and über sweet, just as calorie loaded as the strudel that awaiting Amber in the kitchen.
