by Suzie Quint
The show was over too quickly, and she almost cried out in protest.
He sat up and dragged his pillow around in front of him and proceeded to plump the daylights out of it. Before she could look away, he met her eyes in the mirror.
“See anything you like?” he asked, his lips pulling into a mocking smile.
She wanted to grab his pillow and smother him with it. Given he’d struggle, she probably wasn’t strong enough. She opened the closet and reached for spare sheets and a thermal blanket.
“You don’t really want to sleep on the couch,” he said.
She really didn’t. She wanted to curl up in a real bed, snuggle down, and go to sleep without worrying about the grief Annaliese would give her in the morning for sleeping on the couch. But sharing a bed with Alec wasn’t going to happen. She turned toward him, sheets in hand. “I can’t share a bed with you naked.”
“I can’t sleep in clothes. If I do, I’ll wake up in about an hour overheated. Besides, they make me feel like I’m strangling.”
Strangling sounded good. She added it to her mental list of ways to do him in.
“And if you stay on your side of the bed, you won’t even notice.” He put his pillow back where it belonged.
She snorted her disbelief. “You won’t stay on your side.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Okay. If I don’t stay on my side of the bed, you get to name the penalty.”
“And what will it cost me if you keep to yourself?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. This isn’t a bet. It’s more of a money-back guarantee. If I put a toe on your side of the bed, what do you want?”
If there was anything she wanted from him, this would be the moment to go for it. It was too good an offer to pass up.
“If you don’t stay on your side, we’re on a plane out of here tomorrow. That’s the penalty.”
“Woof.” His brow furrowed as if he hadn’t expected her to name such a harsh penance. She waited, thinking this could turn into a win-win situation. All he had to do was violate her airspace; it didn’t have to go any further than that. They’d be gone before Annaliese woke up, and he’d never know he’d met her mother.
“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, “but it’s worth it to get you to stop fighting me about staying.”
Somehow, he didn’t look disappointed enough to suit her. She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think you can play both ends of this. I’ll tell everyone in the office you’re a welcher if you do me dirty.”
He folded his arms behind his head, a slow, lazy smile stretching his lips as his eyes filled with that demon light. “Sorry, you’ll have to come to my side if you want to do the dirty.”
He was impossible. “I didn’t mean it that way and you know it.”
“Yeah, no one ever means those Freudian slips.” He extended one arm to flip the covers back on her side. With a heavy-lidded look, in a sexy, lowered voice, he said, “Come to bed, chica.”
She stared at the bed, wondering if she’d just been outmaneuvered. It was too late to worry about it. Her pride wouldn’t let her back down now.
Chapter 11
Cleo awoke gradually. Just as gradually, she became aware her butt was pressed up against a nice, warm ass. It was pleasant. Comfortable enough that her mind lingered on the edge of sleep as she enjoyed the feel of it. Before she came fully awake, she was dozing off again.
In a half-dreaming state, her fantasies took hold. Alec would roll over in his sleep, molding himself to her back. Because long nightgowns always worked their way up, her thighs would be bare when he threw his leg over hers. He’d lay his wrist on her waist, so his hand rested lightly over the plane of her stomach. His breath, deep and regular with sleep, brushed against her hair.
She felt safe and secure in the curve of his body and let sleep take her.
The fantasy lingered the next time she floated toward consciousness. Alec’s hand had dropped to her hip where he lazily stroked the bunched-up nightgown as if he was trying to smooth it out. Instead, he was pushing it higher. Eventually, he encountered the side slit, and his hand rested on her bare skin. She liked the warmth of his touch, so she nestled back in against him and prepared to drift back to sleep.
Except the fantasy held onto her, keeping her from gliding off into dreamland. He would, of course, find her irresistible. His morning erection would press against her. She would shift. Just a little, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, of course. In his sleep—she’d be able to tell by the rhythm of his breathing—his hand would move around to her stomach and then down. Down to the crux of her thighs and he’d find that place, oh . . . there.
His fingers stroked her, applying pressure in time with her heartbeat. They were both still breathing the long, slow breaths of sleep-sodden brains as she rocked against his hand, feeding the hunger building in her body.
Suddenly, it wasn’t a fantasy anymore.
She jolted then froze, shocked into wakefulness by the realization that Alec was touching her intimately. Something—possibly her transformation from soft and pliant to stiff and unyielding—must have jolted him as well, because he went rigid a moment later.
They lay there with him wrapped around her, his finger frozen on her clit, her ass pressed against his hard-on, with no graceful way to retreat. Her brain recognized that retreat was called for, but her body wasn’t in agreement. Lust had grabbed her while she’d dozed, and it wasn’t about to let go. Raw, physical need was the dominant force inside her.
Her sexual fantasies had always been better than reality, but the feeling inside her held so much promise. Maybe this time . . . Before she could stop herself, she pressed her mound against his hand.
A sharp inhalation sounded in her ear, then he stroked her, and she melted against him. She should stop him, and she would. Just not yet.
And she wouldn’t let it go any further. But what harm was there in another thirty seconds? It wasn’t as though she was going to be any more mortified over another measly thirty seconds.
She gasped when he inadvertently brushed against the diamond-studded barbell in her clit hood. His fingers paused, and all she could think was, Please. Please.
He spent a moment exploring his find, before giving it an experimental flick. She barely suppressed a moan, her head striking his shoulder as her body arched.
He flicked the barbell again and she bucked, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
He changed tactics, tracing the rim of her ear with his tongue as he lengthened his stroke, running the tip of his finger the length of her nether lips. She nearly folded in half with the pain of being denied the climax that had been so close, but then he returned to the barbell and gave it another flick. She stopped breathing and quivered as her body embraced his revised rhythm.
She’d promised herself it wouldn’t go any further but, oh, that felt so good. The payoff was building again. She couldn’t stop herself from moving against him.
He unfolded the arm that had been curled beneath the pillow and wrapped it around her shoulder, holding her tight against him as he stroked her.
She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out and made another empty promise that she wouldn’t let this go any further. Yet with every pass, her body betrayed her, her hips tilting, practically begging him to dip inside. When he finally did, she pushed against his hand, trying to close the gap between “almost” and “there.”
He slung his leg over hers and rolled back, taking her with him, opening her further to his touch. She should have objected. This was way past where she’d sworn she’d stop him, but she couldn’t do it. She needed this orgasm.
And he was more than willing to give it to her.
He nuzzled his way around her ear as, below, he stroked in and out. Then he strummed her clit with his thumb and she tensed. So close. So, so close. Every stroke added to her excruciating need. This time, she though
t each time he pushed into her, and then just one more, each time he pulled out. And then he found the spot deep inside that made the world explode in bright, shiny, electrified bits of confetti.
When she came back to herself, he was wrapped around her again, spooning up behind her. His hand still cupped her mound and his erection prodded hard against her ass.
She bit down on a moan. He’d just given her a completely out-of-the-box climax—something she never had in morning encounters. It easily equaled what she could do for herself and far surpassed what she generally got from someone else.
It seemed only polite she return the favor and yet . . . she didn’t want him thinking she was okay with this.
Not that she wasn’t okay with morning orgasms. She just wasn’t okay with having them with him, and she certainly didn’t want him to think this might happen again.
But she didn’t want to be one of those people who got theirs, then left their partner out in the cold. She’d been the one left out too often to feel good about doing that to someone else.
Good lord, how had she let herself get in this position?
Alec whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome.”
Apparently, her internal debate about the proper etiquette of the situation had gone on too long.
She drew a breath then held it, not knowing what to say. “Thanks” seemed not only inadequate but was obviously too late in coming. Finally, she settled for, “Isn’t this awkward?”
His hand slid up to her stomach, pulled back across her waist, then disappeared as he rolled out of bed. “It’s only awkward if you want it to be.”
She made sure the covers were in place as she rolled onto her back. “I just―” How could she have forgotten he was naked? She averted her gaze, focusing on the ceiling, but not quickly enough to avoid getting an eyeful of that hard, insistent cock that had been pressed up against her. She could almost feel an aftershock of pleasure roll through her.
I could have had that inside me.
Great. Just great. There was a future fantasy aborning.
Not that size guaranteed a good time, but based on what she saw, it had serious potential.
“You were supposed to stay on your side of the bed.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shoot her an are-you-for-real look before he turned toward the bathroom. A glance to her right revealed a huge expanse of empty bed—her side. She groaned. This kept getting worse and worse.
And if she didn’t do something fast, she would be that sex partner who only cared about her own gratification. That was one more revelation about herself than she could stand.
Alec had just pushed the bathroom door open, so it was now or never. She propped herself up on one elbow and nearly shouted after him, “Do you need help, uhm, with, uh . . .?”
He stopped in the doorway, turned, and looked at her, eyebrows arched so high they nearly disappeared in rumpled hair. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
“Uhm . . .” She swallowed. “I just thought . . .”
His eyebrows dropped, crunching together over glowering eyes.
“I mean, after all you did . . .” Her hand fluttered as his expression grew darker. “And I . . . uh . . .”
When he stalked back toward the bed, she knew she’d made a serious mistake. She shrank back against the pillows, clutching the covers, and tried not to look directly at his lovely, thick erection.
“What you, uhm, did,” he said, giving back her speech pattern with a sarcasm ala mode topping, “was come your brains out, but if what you’re, uh, offering is to return the favor, thanks but no thanks. I prefer my sex partners have a bit more enthusiasm.” Then he propped a knee on the bed and braced one hand on each side of her head, grasping the headboard. She closed her eyes and stopped breathing when he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Just think about this. If I can make you feel that good with just one hand, imagine what I could do if the rest of me got in on the act.”
That was what she was afraid of, but that traitorous devil on her shoulder also relished the possibility.
The headboard rattled as he pushed off, and the bathroom door had slammed shut by the time she opened her eyes.
She couldn’t possibly share the bed with him another night. Either he had to stay at a hotel or she had to sleep on the couch. Annaliese’s argument that they were both adults wouldn’t sway her again. Because being an adult only meant she had a weakness for adult entertainment.
~***~
Alec seethed as he turned on the shower and waited for the water to get hot. He knew she didn’t think much of him, but offering to service him like that . . . As if it were an obligation.
If she had any idea how close he’d come to taking her deal . . . He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. It certainly wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to.
He didn’t like admitting to himself that it had been the spirit the offer was made in. After all, it wasn’t like him to care that much why a woman was willing, but something about her offer stuck in his craw. It felt like . . . well, like charity.
He swiped his hand through the water. It was warm enough so he stepped in, shutting the opaque glass door behind him.
Turning her down was the only choice he could make and keep his pride. He could hear what Jackson would say if he ever told him that. What kind of man chooses pride over getting laid? Yeah, this wasn’t something he was ever going to share.
He picked up the fresh bar of soap that practically screamed For Company Only. His erection throbbed when he remembered discovering Cleo’s penchant for unusual jewelry. He rubbed up some lather before folding his soap-slicked hand around his hard-on. His little Pulitzer girl had a kinky side.
Why’d I turn her down?
He couldn’t remember.
Thoughts of what a woman who’d pierce such an intimate place might do to a man drowned every reason he had for saying no. He tried not to stroke himself too fast, but his imagination was having none of it. He could almost have come without touching himself at all. With a groan, he braced himself against the wall and let the memory of Cleo coming apart in his arms take him over the edge.
~***~
Cleo stared at the bathroom door, closed in blatant un-invitation. When the shower turned on, she pictured him in all his naked glory stepping into the water. She slammed the mental door on that image, but not before her face heated up like a blowtorch.
How had this happened? As tempting as Alec was to her waking mind, she hadn’t been worried about crossing that line because she’d never been a snuggler. When she settled down to sleep, she’d scoot away from any warm body that touched her. Once, when she’d cat-sat for a friend, she’d woken up balanced on the edge of the mattress a twitch away from falling out of bed, the cat pressed against the small of her back. She was no different with men. Martin had complained about it often enough.
Not because Martin had been into snuggling, but because it had tripped his insecurities that she wasn’t.
So why had she chased Alec across the bed the way that damned cat had chased her? Was it because her life had gone awry? Was she subconsciously looking for some knight in shining armor to rescue her? How desperate did she have to be to cast a tabloid writer in that role?
Even if it were true, he had no way of knowing that. She buried her face in her hands. He was going to think she wanted him.
The worst part of it was, she did. He was intelligent and funny and had a drool-worthy body, and after the way he’d just turned her inside out, she knew he was no amateur in bed. When he’d rejected her ham-fisted offer, she’d all but drooped with disappointment.
She had to get out of the bedroom, she thought as the shower turned off. Knowing he’d walked in there without clothes, that he’d be out as soon as he toweled off, shot her out of the bed. She grabbed the guest robe Annaliese always hung in the closet and threw it over her borrowed nightgown.
After closing the bedroom door softly behind her, she stopped, unsure where she sho
uld go. It was too early for Annaliese and Jada to be up, but Alec might decide to hunt for coffee. She didn’t want to get caught in the kitchen without an escape route.
No place inside the condo was safe, so she turned left, cut through the living room, and stepped out onto the tiny flagstone patio that would have opened onto the golf course but for the hedge that provided privacy.
That was the commodity she needed. Privacy, and a little time to sort out what had happened. And more importantly, what she was going to do next because she couldn’t allow it to happen again, no matter what her libido said.
It was still early, but it was also Vegas, and she appreciated the temperate morning air. She sat on the patio glider, perching one heel on the edge of the seat. Wrapping her arms around her leg, she propped her chin on her knee and used her other foot to gently rock the glider.
She wasn’t entirely convinced by her knight-in-shining-armor theory. At best, it explained what was going on in her subconscious, but it didn’t explain those random, unwelcome thoughts while she was awake and supposedly in possession of good sense.
Sex had always reminded her of popcorn. All that salty, buttery, want-me smell in the air promising a moaning satisfaction, but when it landed on her tongue, she was always disappointed. Sex was like that, at least for her. The men were always more selfish or insecure than she expected, the need to find satisfaction before they quit on her more distracting, the fear they’d think she was weird if she asked them to do that.
Her first real sexual experience hadn’t happened until college. Even though she’d chosen it, when the time had come, she’d been embarrassed about still being a virgin.
She’d tried to hide her inexperience by pretending her boyfriend satisfied her in bed. By the time she’d gotten comfortable enough that she might have made a few requests, she’d been trapped, unable to admit the sex that had come before wasn’t all that great. It certainly hadn’t been what she’d come to expect from having front row seats in Annaliese’s household. It hadn’t even measured up to what she read in romance novels.
