by Malone, Nana
Izzy sat bolt upright from her dream, sheets tangled around her ankles. Damn it. It wasn’t enough that he haunted her waking hours, but memories of him had to take over her sleeping hours too? Her entire body felt flushed from the memory of Jason’s kiss. The flesh between her thighs tingled and throbbed begging for release from a man’s touch. From Jason’s touch. No! Not Jason. Simon.
Izzy flopped on her side, trying to will the feelings of need back into their lockbox. Sleep wouldn’t come quickly today. What’s the point? She rifled through her happy drawer and pulled out her battery operated boyfriend. “How nice it is to see you again, B.O.B.”
Shifting position, she turned B.O.B onto mild vibrate and closed her eyes in anticipation of the predictable bliss. At first, she kept the vibrations low to reflect how she liked to be teased.
Teasing her slickened folds to coax them into response, she pinched her distended nipple, hoping to speed the process along. But nothing happened. She needed incentive. Maybe picturing Simon was what she needed. If she could imagine herself with him, maybe she could feel something.
Frustrated, she increased the speed of vibration, closing her eyes and tried to picture Simon—the way he’d kissed her the other day. Simon’s tongue traversing her dew slickened folds. Simon’s strong hands massaging her breasts, plumping them into response.
Simon inserting first one finger, then two into her, groaning as her juices dampened his hand. Simon’s dampened fingers circling around her nipple. His gaze locked on the puckering bud. His head lowering to the nipple, tongue peeking out to tease before tasting.
In her mind’s eye, she pictured his head lowering with aching slowness. Blond locks tousled and tangled from her attempts to draw him closer. Blond? That wasn’t right. Black men didn’t have blond hair. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up as she moaned with the need to climax. Why couldn’t Jason leave her in peace even now?
Flopping back on the bed, she groaned. Might as well go with it. After all, it was only a fantasy. Not like it was real. She closed her eyes again, shifting to make room for B.O.B.
Jason’s roguish smile flashed in her brain, and she whimpered as the need crashed into her blood. She pictured his head lowering to her nipple covered in her essence. Tongue traversing around the nipple, he mumbled. “Mmmm, delicious.” As his teeth grazed and his lips suckled at her nipples, his fingers acquainted themselves with her folds. He mumbled love words as he paid homage at her breasts. “So wet…hot…beautiful…”
Izzy moaned his name as her fantasy took on a mind of its own.
Jason finally released her nipple with a pop and lowered himself between her legs. “I’ve had a teaser, now I want the whole thing.”
His first lick forced a full body shudder form her. His second ripped a moan from her throat. On his third, he circled her clit slow and easy, refusing to give her the harder stimulation she needed. He circled the distended nub with his lips and hummed.
Izzy’s hips bucked off the bed. Calloused hands gripped her hips to keep her in place. “Oh no you don’t. I want my feast.” With his thumbs, he parted her plump folds and took in the view. “Gorgeous.”
She whimpered his name and a plea. He rewarded her by licking a path of heated need all the way from her clit to her perineum and back again. He repeated the process, though this time, he stopped at her clit, placing a soft kiss directly above it.
“Jason…more…”
When he didn’t give her what she wanted, Izzy peeled open her eyes to look at him. The purple latex of B.O.B. looked back. Damn.
She needed to get over her Jason fantasy before it ruined her life. Why couldn’t she get over her mental blocks? She and Simon cared about each other. They were friends. Maybe they could be more than friends. Besides, she needed to focus on the reality of her life, not the fantasy she wished her life could be.
How long had it been since she’d had sex? It couldn’t be that long ago. She counted back the months but had to stop after she ran out of fingers. Damn, over a year. And if she remembered right, it hadn’t even been that good.
Well, I have no one to blame if I sit around and don’t do anything about it. She brushed her covers aside and hopped from the bed to find the perfect seduction outfit. She could just call Simon to come over. He’d moan about the late hour, but this way, he wouldn’t be able to refuse her.
Finding the wispy bits of red lace in her drawer, she changed in a rush, arranging herself on the bed in what she prayed was an alluring manner. Extending her arms trying to take a picture, she realized that wouldn’t work. Spying the dresser she smiled. Perfect. She set the timer, quickly hopping back on the bed before she could chicken out.
The camera clicked, and she giggled. Jessica would never believe this. She’d never done anything so daring. She picked up the phone and hastily typed out a message with the attached photo. “I’m so lonely. Want to come over and keep me company?”
She selected speed dial number one and hit send. When the little message envelope said sending, she lay back with giddy anticipation. Any moment now, Simon would call and tell her he was on his way from Century City. That he’d dropped everything and couldn’t wait to be with her.
Any moment now. Except, as she waited for the message to send, she noticed the area code as 323, not Simon’s 310. Panic shot through her, cold and fast, knotting icicles of tension in each muscle. Oh shit. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Oh Shit. God, if you’re up there, please tell me I can recall that message.” She shook the phone and tried to stop the send process. When that didn’t work, she sped through the message options looking for some sort of recall button.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. This could not happen. It was a dream, a terrible, horrible nightmare. All she had to do was wake up. She pinched herself, then muttered curses at the frisson of pain that shot up her arm. “Ow. Damn it.”
Defeated, she sunk onto the bed, shoulders slumped. She was grounding Nick tomorrow for changing her speed dial numbers. If it was Jessica, she was so fired. After several deep breaths, she fought back the tears in her eyes. She had no one to blame but herself. Nick didn’t tell her to be irresponsible. Jessica didn’t stuff her in the see-through lace and tell her to try her hand at seduction. All of it was her stupid idea.
Fuck.
The sounds of Star Wars filled the room, and she stared in horror at her phone LCD. Jason. Equal parts shame, misery and fury washed over her and rendered her unable to move. Maybe he’ll hang up and leave me alone? The phone stopped ringing, and she would have cheered if she’d been able to move. Though, her cheer didn’t last, as the phone rang again. Jason—again.
I can’t be a sissy all my life, can I? Forcing the motion of her fingers, she answered, stumbling over her words. “Look, I’m mortified enough. Nick changed my speed dial settings, and you were first, but it was supposed to go to Simon, and now you have it, and I—”
“What’s your game, Izzy?” His tone, husky and lazy, washed over her like much needed sunlight.
“I—I—It’s not a game, Jason. It was a mistake, a complete horrible, nausea inducing have-to-pack-it-in-and-move-to-Timbuktu sort of gaffe. I’m embarrassed, and I never should have, but Nick messed with the phone and I was lonely and Simon…” She trailed off when she noticed the sounds of a highway in the background. “Are you driving?”
Voice still husky, he let out a brief, pained chuckle. “This is one of the times I regret living in Malibu. Babe, it’ll be a while to get to you, but maybe we can start with phone sex. I already know what you’re wearing, so how about I start with are you wet?”
Izzy couldn’t process his last question, because she was too focused on the first thing he’d said. On the road. From Malibu. Shit. And because the fates loved to see her squirm, she realized with painful horror that she was wet. Oh God. Heat suffused her skin all over, and she prayed for a hole to open and swallow her. I am not having phone sex with Jason Cartwright. “Jason, don’t come over. I beg you.” She didn’t recognize the silken husky
voice as her own.
A horn blared in the background. “You’re insane if you think after what I’ve seen, I could pretend I haven’t.”
“Please don’t. This was a horrible mistake. I swear I will never do anything so reckless again in my life. Please don’t come over.”
“Too late. I need to see if you taste as good as you look.” He mumbled a curse. “I don’t care if I have to wake every neighbor you have. I’m seeing you tonight.”
Damn, she didn’t stand a chance if he kept at her like this. Any woman in the world would be beside herself to have Jason Cartwright breaking traffic laws to get to them. Any woman. Every woman. How many women had he seduced with the smiles and the sexy voice and the urgent pleading in his voice? That thought had her rationale returning to her.
“Jason, you show up here and wake up the neighbors, the press swarm this place in a heartbeat.”
That brought him to his senses. “Shit. You don’t play fair Izzy Connors.”
Neither do you. “I—uhm. I really am sorry again. How about we both just forget this ever happened? We still have another shoot to do. This will be something we can laugh at and humiliate me with twenty years in the future or something. I am so sorry, Jason. Never again.”
Jason was so silent for several moments she thought he’d hung up. “You never did answer my question, Izzy.”
Confused, she stuttered, “Wh—what question?”
“Are you wet?
Chapter Ten
Five days, and Jason could only think of Izzy. Five days since they’d talked. Five days since he’d seen her in her lingerie.
He needed to have his head examined. What kind of fool chased a woman who said she wasn’t interested, dared the laws of physics and the Malibu Police department by driving a hundred-twenty miles an hour in a rush to get to said uninterested woman. Though, in the fool’s defense, she’d sent him a photo hot enough to rob him of all common sense for weeks to come. He’d see her tonight. Tonight, boyfriend or not, he’d see her in her lingerie again. Tonight, he’d get an answer to his question.
“You want to tell me about the fight?”
Jason’s head snapped up from the contract he signed, automatically filtering out the restaurant’s din. Château Marmont was not his ideal place for a meeting, but Aaron loved it, the chaos, the energy. “What do you mean? What fight?”
Aaron shrugged. “I heard you and your lady photographer went all De la Hoya vs. Mayweather.”
“De la Hoya vs. Mayweather? Where do you get this stuff?” He shook his head and chuckled. “It was nothing. We just had a little difference of opinion.”
His manager leaned forward, eyes searching his face. “What aren’t you telling me, Jase?”
“Nothing.”
“You think I didn’t notice the tension in the studio with you two?”
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
Aaron swigged down the last of his Scotch. “Yeah, I might be a pain in your ass, but if there’s a problem with your photographer, I need to know. This Sports Illustrated cover and spread is important, especially with you injured. Your endorsements depend on good press. If it’s not working out with this photographer, I can have her replaced.”
The skin on his arms prickled at the thought of having Izzy replaced. That was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted was more time with her, alone time, not less. He didn’t want her replaced. “We work together fine. There are some minor complications we have to deal with.”
Aaron raised his empty tumbler in the direction of their harried waiter. Ice cubes clinked in the empty glass, reflecting shards of rainbow light from the setting sunset off the French doors. He looked every bit the expensive sports agent. He and Simon would make fast friends, Jason mused.
“What is the history with you guys anyway? You into her?”
“When did you start prying? Besides, it’s not like that.” Liar. “She’s an old friend. And, she’s got a kid. Kids equal drama.”
“Ouch. No one wants to deal with Baby Daddy bullshit.” Aaron ignored the warning look and continued. “If you’re just old friends, why do you have that look?”
“What look?”
“You know, the look. The one you get when you can’t get someone out of your head. Remember that thing with the heiress? You obsessed about her for months.”
Jason groaned at the reminder of the oil heiress. “Dude, I was twenty-two and dumb. You can’t hold it against me.”
Aaron shifted his focus for a moment to check out the long limbs of the red-headed It-Girl on her way to a table. A vibrant jade green gaze flitted over their table before narrowing in on Jason with the focused precision of a laser.
“Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a piece of that,” Aaron muttered.
Jason’s eyes skimmed over the red head’s body. Memories of a drunken coat closet incident surfaced in his mind. Maybe Izzy was right, and he had pissed his life away with a series of meaningless encounters. “Not worth it.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. “Oh man, her too. You’re a dog. Give the rest of us a chance.”
“Oh, c’mon. It was three years ago. I’ve changed my stripes.”
“Yeah right.” Aaron stretched over the table to take his pen back from Jason. “Look, you’ve got two more shoots scheduled with the Connors chick, are you two kids going to play nice?”
He had every intention on playing nice with her tonight. “It’s under control. There won’t be a problem.” He didn’t want to share with Aaron that he was on his way to Izzy’s after their meeting. None of his business.
“If you say so. Besides, if you have chocolate fever these days, we can get you a date with that actress Grace Umber or somebody like that. Or, even better, one of the Jenkins sisters, the ones coming up the tennis ranks. Now how’s that for publicity? Tennis legends in love—endorsers love shit like that. Sasha…” Aaron used his hands to imitate her breasts. “She’s a real powerhouse.”
Chocolate fever? More like Izzy fever. He liked women, all kinds of women. Tall, short, black, white, they all helped drown out that empty feeling. At least they had, before Izzy. “Jesus, do you have to be so lewd? I don’t need a fix-up.”
“I’m just saying. If you’re into black girls now, let’s at least hook you up with one that can get you some press. The Connors woman is a hell of a photographer, great body if you like ass, and not a bad rack at all, but I mean it wouldn’t kill her to wear a little makeup, right?”
Was Aaron really that much of an asshole? Better yet, was he blind? She might not lacquer herself in the makeup and trappings of all the extra stuff, but she didn’t need it. “You know, sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.”
Aaron grinned. “Because I’ll tell you how it is. You need that kind of honesty.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. I gotta blaze. I have plans.”
“Jase, before you go, do you want to talk about our situation?”
“Our situation? Does that mean our money is up for grabs? I thought we already agreed there was no need to talk about it. I’ve got it covered.”
“Not so fast. Your Kellogg’s contract is up for renegotiation.”
“Yeah, I know. I thought we agreed to sign with the same term as before and renegotiate a higher fee after I win another Open or Grand Slam.”
“Yeah well, the Kellogg’s guys are dragging their feet. I sent them the contract last week, but they haven’t even come back to me for changes.”
The hairs on his neck pricked up, and he scooted to the edge of his seat. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, it might be time to prepare yourself to not have Kellogg’s on your roster of endorsers.”
He slumped in his chair. “Shit.”
Aaron rolled his lips inward. “I’m sorry, Jase.”
Jason’s heart hammered a tattoo into his chest cavity. Aaron was kind enough not to point out what would happen to his other endorsements once they found out about Kellogg’s. “Is there anything I can d
o to stop it? Anything? Come let them watch a practice? Something to prove I’m not worm food yet?”
“Let’s not go that far, but just so you know, I’m working on it. Besides, we don’t want to reek of desperation. Like you said, you worry about you, and I’ll worry about the rest.”
And what if Kellogg’s had it right? Jason refused to dwell on the negative thoughts dragging dark clouds over his mood. He would be back. He had no other options. He navigated through the throng of tables in Château Marmont’s dining room as he strode into the lobby in a hurry to get to Izzy. The swarm of photographers trapped his feet in virtual cement. Were they there for him or someone else? He considered going out the back door, but with a single flashbulb, was too late. He’d been spotted. Damn.
“Jason…”
“Over here, Jason…”
“Can you tell us about the allegations you and Michaels didn’t part on good terms?” Damn, was that going to stick?
“Jason, can you tell us when you and Cienna are getting married?”
They weren’t ever going to let go of that one were they?
“What about the rumors that you’re gay?”
That was a new one.
He was stuck. It was too late to go out the back, so he had no choice but to go out the front door, which meant best case he would be late to Izzy’s. Worst case, he wouldn’t make it. As the swarm of flashbulb bees grew, he gritted his teeth—worst case.
****
Izzy’s mind was on murder. All she had to do was find the inventor of the skinny jean and shoot him, maybe tar and feather him first. Even better, squeeze his ass into a pair of skinny jeans, tar and feather him, then shoot him. It had to be a him, no woman would put another woman through the torture.
“Aaarrrggghhh!” She jumped and wiggled. When all else failed, she lay on the bed, but after all her efforts, she was only able to pull the jeans halfway up her thighs. “What the hell possessed me to think I could pull off skinny jeans?”
Nick knocked at her door. “Mom, you okay in there?”
