Yeah, one hot night together. That’s all he needed. He’d fuck her till she couldn’t stand up. They’d part as friends. She’d be out of his system for good then.
But she’d also be out of his kitchen. That knowledge stabbed through him, then he laughed at himself. The city was full of personal chefs he could hire. God knows he didn’t really need a naked one.
Zack retreated to his favorite recliner in the living room and clicked on the television. From here, he only had to cant his head a few degrees to see what Rose was doing now. Something with lettuce and lemons. Then she turned to the wall oven and opened it to look in at the desserts, allowing him a perfect view of her curvy ass framed by the ties of the apron. His cock responded immediately. A whole new scenario began to play through his mind. Rose bent forward over the island, her elegant pussy impaled from behind on his thrusting cock.
God.
Zack flicked blindly through a dozen TV channels. What had ever made him think he could have a naked female parading around his home and not want to fuck her? Especially someone as luscious as Rose? What a crazy, unnatural idea.
And he couldn’t be the only one of her clients dealing with this problem. No doubt most, if not all, of Rose’s clients wanted to fuck her.
Had they all managed to maintain their distance?
Or had she let her guard down for some of them?
An unreasonable streak of something like jealousy twisted in his gut as he pictured another man beside her at the island right now, nibbling her ear, squeezing her breasts, sweeping aside her apron. Helpless, he watched as the Rose of his fantasy dropped her spoon and turned into the embrace of the other man. Her throaty moans pierced him clear through. The stranger took possession of her, laying her back on the counter, spreading those creamy white thighs wide open.
“Yes! Oh, yes!” Fantasy Rose cried, offering herself up like a delicious gourmet treat. When the make-believe man buried his face in Rose’s pussy, Zack leaped out of his chair and headed back out to the terrace.
The sun had set, throwing its colors onto the neighboring buildings and the lazy river that wound away in the distance. An evening breeze cooled his face. Some kind of small bird lit on the railing and then flitted away. Gradually, Zack came back to reality.
This simply wasn’t going to work.
He couldn’t wait any longer to have her.
He had thought he could, but this relentless pull toward Rose had become stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before. He turned and leaned back against the rail, staring through the glass of the sliding door. She was setting the table. A pair of tapers threw flickering light on the terrain of her face and body as she moved about the room.
An odd sense of yearning spiraled through him, the implications of it stunned him cold.
He wanted her in his bed, yes. God knows he’d wanted to fuck her since the first morning she’d appeared in that sweet little apron of hers.
But he wanted her there in his kitchen, too, setting his table. And he wanted her to look up at him and smile, and then stroll out onto the terrace with her own drink. He wanted her to stand beside him at the railing and watch as the sunset colors faded from the sky. He wanted her long, slim fingers intertwined with his.
Damn. Damn. He was so screwed.
One night with Rose, if she ever did give him the opportunity, wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Four
She had broiled the rib steak to a perfect medium rare, its fragrant juices pooling just a little on the plate. He slid the steak knife through the meat and dipped the bite into the wonderful horseradish sauce before popping it into his mouth. On the other half of his plate, a russet potato oozed with melted butter, crème fresh and chopped chives. Zack closed his eyes and savored the incredible flavors and aromas that Rose had coaxed from the dinner ingredients.
But the wonderful meal was all a little wasted on him. He sat in his halo of intimate candlelight all alone. She had chosen not to sit down with him as she normally did at breakfast. Instead, she hovered in the kitchen, fussing quietly with the custard and washing the broiler pan. For the third time he asked her to join him.
“Come sit with me, Rose. Please. I promise I don’t bite.”
She chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Cranston, I think that you do.” Her breasts jiggled as she wiped the counter top.
Yes. As he watched her movements, he had to admit she was right. If given the chance he would indeed bite. And suck and lick and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. He sighed and turned back to his steak.
Several more minutes of silence ticked by while she puttered at the sink.
“Coffee with your custard?” she finally asked.
“Yes please.” After two scotches and the wine with dinner, coffee was a good idea. The more rational he could remain the better. He’d been thinking it over as he sat there watching her. If she wouldn’t respond to his playful advances, then maybe the way to her heart was through her pocket book. Offering her extra money had gotten her here tonight. He had a sense that she really needed the money. What else would she be willing to do for cash?
A flare of excitement riffled through him at the illicit idea of paying her for sex. He’d never had to do that with anyone before. Would Rose draw the line there or did she need money bad enough to give in to him?
Nah. He forked the last succulent bit of steak into his mouth. She might work naked as a gimmick, but she’d been clear with him about the no touching policy. She would only let him go so far and then she’d walk. No matter what, he couldn’t let that happen.
She came toward him with the carafe of steaming coffee and filled his mug. Then she picked up his empty dinner plate and set a custard cup nicely displayed on a saucer with a paper doily underneath in front of him. Her apron tickled his arm. She stood so near he could see the gooseflesh on her pale thighs. He gulped. He could practically feel her velvety skin under his fingertips.
He flexed his fingers, then forced himself to pick up his spoon and dip into the warm custard. He was just letting the first bite of sweet goo melt in his mouth when his cell phone buzzed.
****
Rose walked back to the kitchen with the carafe and dinner plate. She couldn’t help being a little curious about the phone call. He’d never gotten a call before when she was here. Trying not to be obvious, she slid the plate into the dishwasher and rearranged the few pieces of flatware while she listened.
“Yeah, Dave. Seriously? When? Thanks.”
He pocketed the phone, got up and strode into the living room where he picked up the TV remote and turned on the set. She could barely hear the low staccato of a news broadcast. He watched for a few minutes and then returned to the table, leaving the sound on low in the background.
“Shit.” He flounced back into his chair and sat staring into space.
“Everything okay?” she asked when he didn’t move.
He sighed. “One of my clients just escaped.”
“Escaped?” A strange buzzing started in the back of Rose’s head.
He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. “Yeah. He and two other inmates just made a break from one of the state prisons.”
“Which one?” she asked. But somehow, she already knew the answer. Rose dropped the knife she held and flew across the room. She turned up the TV volume just in time to hear the announcer recap the breaking news story.
“Following the breakout, the Mid-Orange Correctional Facility remains on lockdown tonight. We’ll have more details in our eleven o’clock broadcast.”
She sunk down onto the leather couch, not even noticing the cold surface against her naked skin.
Mikey.
Surely he wouldn’t be so foolish as to join in a prison break. Not when she’d just practically promised him that she’d have him home for Christmas. Her stomach heaved.
“What is it?” Zack bent over her, a look of consternation furrowing his features. “Rose?”
It seemed as if his voice came from far away. In fact
, the whole room seemed to be telescoping around her, a swell of nausea overwhelming her. She felt herself falling to one side. And then there were strong hands gripping her arms, steadying her, easing her head down onto a suede pillow. Then everything went fuzzy and gray.
When she came to, Zack was on his knees beside the couch, his gentle fingers stroking the hair back from her face. Her eyes met his, reading something unnamable in their greenish depths. Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other, only inches separating them.
“You okay?” he whispered.
She nodded. Then she realized that his hand had stroked a silky path down her arm to her hip and settled there.
And she was naked.
She shot upright, still a little woozy, and brushed his hand away.
“I’m fine, fine. It was just that newsbreak. Those prisoners. Did you catch their names?”
He got up off the floor and slid onto the chair across from her.
“Not the other two. Why?”
“My brother—”
She clamped her mouth shut. She never told strangers about Mikey being in prison.
“Your brother what?”
But then Zack Cranston wasn’t a stranger, was he? In fact, hadn’t he pretty much just told her he was a lawyer? Maybe she could take a chance and trust him.
“My little brother’s serving time at Mid-Orange.”
“Ah. What’s his name?”
“Mikey. Mike. Mike Phelps.”
A fresh wave of panic washed over her. She needed to know that Mikey was okay. Even if he hadn’t tried to escape—of course he wouldn’t do something so foolish—she knew that a breakout could mean violence and unrest at the prison. What if he got caught up in the middle of some kind of uprising and got hurt or even killed?
“Is there news on another channel before eleven?”
“There’s the ten o’clock news on channel twelve.”
“Still two hours.” She leaped up and started pacing. How could she wait two whole hours? She needed to know what was going on now. She needed to talk to Lizzie. Her little sister would be frantic if she heard about this.
“I need to go home now,” she said. She headed for the kitchen. Only his coffee mug and the custard cup remained on the table. She emptied the nearly untouched custard into the garbage disposal, then added the mug and ramekin to the dishwasher, slammed the door shut, and punched the “on” button.
“I’m sure he’s okay. I’m sure things are under control there.” Zack leaned against the island watching her. In his eyes she thought she could read compassion. His voice was calm, reassuring. She wanted so badly to believe him. But how could he know for sure what was happening at the prison? No one could.
“I need to be home with my sister.” Rose rushed past him and into the powder room. Not bothering to dress, she shoved her folded clothing into her bag and threw on her coat. She’d just finished buttoning it when she came out. Zack stood in the entry way, his cell phone to his ear.
As she was about to put her hand on the front door knob, he covered it with his, preventing her from leaving.
She wheeled around and glared at him.
“Wait,” he mouthed at her silently. Then he said into the phone, “Thanks, Phil. I appreciate it very much. Good luck there.”
“I need to go.” She gritted her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her stilettoed toe. He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Everything’s fine, Rose. Relax.” His hand still covered the knob.
“Relax? My brother may be in real danger and you want me to relax?”
“That was the warden’s assistant, Phil Bond. Your brother wasn’t one of the escapees, and everything is quiet there tonight. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Rose just stared.
“You called the prison?”
“Yes. I told you. I talked to the warden’s right hand guy. I’ve known Phil for years.”
“You did that for me?”
“You seemed pretty upset.”
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Mikey was fine. The warden had everything under control. No need to freak out. She tried on a shaky smile.
“I was. I was very upset. Thank you for doing that.”
“Sure.” Zack’s hand fell away from the door and he smiled back at her. “Stay and have dessert and coffee with me?”
She let out a big whoosh of air, feeling strangely euphoric. “Okay.”
“Great. But I think I’m gonna need one of those back-up custard cups you made. Some crazy lady seems to have thrown mine out.”
Rose laughed. She felt so light, so carefree now. What an odd sensation. She tossed her bag on the hall table.
“Let me help you out of your coat,” he said.
It was the simplest of gestures. Neither of them understood its portent as she undid her buttons. Not until he lifted the coat off her shoulders did they both realize she still wore nothing underneath but the little lace apron.
Chapter Five
As Zack pulled the coat off her shoulders and down her arms, everything changed between them. He heard the sudden catch of her breath and saw the reflexive motion of her hands fluttering up to cover her breasts. What a funny thing to do, considering she’d always been bare-breasted in his home.
And yet he understood immediately.
Before, they hadn’t known any personal details about each other. Now, he knew one of her best kept secrets.
Before, they’d maintained a certain professional distance. Now, unbidden, he had done her a personal favor by using his connections to ascertain that her brother was all right.
Before, she’d always undressed herself.
Now, he was touching her, removing her coat, exposing her pale back and rounded ass, the backs of her curvy thighs and calves.
He was, in essence, stripping her.
She didn’t turn around.
He hovered behind her, unable to breathe.
In the background, the news broadcast spit bits of noise and light into the silent room. He let her coat drift to the carpet.
“Rose.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I can wait any longer to touch you.”
“Oh.” It was more like a breath than a word.
He let his hands come up and rest lightly on her shoulders. Silken skin quivered beneath his palms. He stroked up and down her upper arms, quieting her, then leaned forward and buried his nose in the soft luxury of her hair. There was that faint tropical scent again invading his nostrils, along with the clean smell of Rose herself. He found her neck hidden in her hair and placed small kisses there as his hands moved to her ribcage and then down her hips. As he cupped her ass she let out a long, shaky sigh.
“You’re so beautiful, Rose. Do you know that? Do you know how long I’ve waited to touch you?”
“But—”
“I know. This changes everything between us.”
“Yes. It has to.” She sighed again.
“I don’t care. Take your hands away, Rose. Please.”
He reached around her and put his hands over hers, pulling them away from her body. Then he palmed her warm, naked breasts. So soft, so sexy. His already hard cock stiffened and lengthened inside his slacks. He snugged up against her so she could feel it. Beneath his palms, her nipples unfurled into firm little points. He pinched them lightly and she gasped.
“Mr. Cranston!”
“For God’s sake, Rose, I’m playing with your tits. Can’t you call me Zack?” He kneaded the soft globes, his thumbs scraping across their tender tips.
“Oh, Zack.” Her hips pressed back against his erection, her head lolled against his shoulder. “I don’t—I’m not sure about this.”
“I’m sure enough for both of us,” he growled.
Just a few feet to one side, a large, gilt-framed mirror hung in the entry next to the coat rack. He eased her body around ninety degrees until their reflection shone back at them. The wildly sexy image set him o
n fire.
There was Rose’s voluptuous form, clothed only in the scrap of lace, pale and lovely in the low light. He saw his own face above her shoulder, his fingers moving on her breasts, cupping, caressing. He watched the involuntary movement of her hips as she pushed into him. Touching her was even better than he had imagined.
But the expression on her face as her eyes stared into his was the best thing of all. Her lids were heavy with arousal, small white teeth trapping her ripe lower lip. Her breath came in short bursts, breasts rising and falling wantonly beneath his palms. She moved her hands restively over her belly and thighs like an exotic dancer, intriguing and inviting him to touch her more intimately. He swallowed hard and lowered his gaze.
He snaked one hand down her abdomen and over the apron. The lace was slightly scratchy. He palmed her mound, moving in a slow circle, watching their reflection as he lifted the bottom of the apron a little higher with each pass. Finally, the dark triangle of curls peeked out from underneath, decorating her plump mons and hidden cleft. He hesitated then, his eyes meeting hers again in the mirror, seeking some sign that she wanted this as much as he did.
****
Rose stared into his eyes and then back at her own naked reflection. The whole situation seemed so surreal. One moment she had been almost hysterical about Mikey, ready to run home, and in the next she found herself responding like a slut to Zack Cranston’s touch. Somehow that gesture of his, that small kindness of finding out about Mikey for her, had shredded her defenses, leaving her completely, unexpectedly open to his approach.
He pushed her apron up, baring her, and all she could think about was how long it was taking him to touch her aching pussy. As she watched, she felt his other hand tickle at the small of her back, untying the bow, and then the apron dropped away. Now she was completely naked.
“Open your legs, Rose.” His fierce whisper seared her neck.
Naked Treats Page 3
