Her Sexiest Fantasy (The Sexiest Series Book 2)

by Janelle Denison

  Yes, now she knew. And she’d never be able to forget.

  Her fingers curled around the ledge, to keep from touching his chest, gleaming with droplets of water. She stared into his eyes, as dark as the velvet night sky above. That familiar ache started within her, the wanting…

  “Kyle…”

  His thumbs slipped beneath the elastic band of her swimsuit where it cut high on her hips. “Leopard print, hmm?” he said of the print on her suit, obviously not interested in her feeble protests. “If I peel this away, will I find a tiger beneath?”

  There was something just a little untamed happening inside her.

  “Or maybe a sweet little kitty cat?” Leaning forward, he lapped the water drops from her throat, his tongue soft and warm as he tasted her skin.

  She quivered and all but curled into him and purred.

  “Which one would it be?” he mused, his lips lingering at a sensitive spot just below her ear. “Tiger or kitten?”

  “Both felines have claws,” she said, cursing the breathless quality of her voice, which diminished the brassy retort she’d been striving for.

  “That they do,” he agreed, chuckling. “But if they’re petted and stroked the right way, they usually become docile and compliant.” As if to prove his point, he swept a hand down her spine, smoothing his palm over the wet, slippery suit that clung like skin. “I want to stroke you.” That same hand passed over her hip and slid down her thigh to her knee, the caress electrifying her nerves. “I want to pet you.”

  She caught the groan rising in her throat, but there was nothing she could do to prevent the softening of her body, the yearning spiraling deep inside, the need to succumb to the desire singeing her senses. What he was suggesting was wicked, erotic and lascivious.

  And she wanted to experience it.

  Shrouded in darkness, spellbound by the hunger and promises gleaming in his eyes, her inhibition fled. In its place was a wildness she’d only imagined and wrote about, an uncontrollable urge to give in to the lush, decadent sensations of her fantasies.

  “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle his soft, warm lips along her neck. “And feel the heat between us…”

  Moaning in acquiescence, she let her lashes fall and her body respond. He lifted his hands from her knees and tangled his fingers in her damp hair, using his hold to tilt her head back and give his marauding mouth better access to her throat.

  He nibbled her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, his tongue sliding, swirling, from her earlobe to the base of her throat. Jade’s grip on the ledge of the pool tightened, and she welcomed the distraction of the concrete scraping into her palms.

  Which lasted all of three seconds. He ruthlessly bombarded her senses, shattering her defenses with the slow slide of his hands along her neck to her shoulders, the wet heat of his mouth gliding along her flesh, the incredible softness of his tongue…a tongue that was currently licking droplets of water from her skin in long, languid laps.

  Like a big cat enjoying a bowl of rich cream.

  “Kyle…” Her voice quivered, and so did her belly, her thighs. She was strung too tight.

  He pushed the straps of her suit from her shoulders, letting them fall down her arms. The wet spandex clung to her breasts, and she gulped huge breaths as he rained soft kisses on her chest and his tongue stroked over the full, straining swells of her breasts.

  Fire. His touch was pure flame, burning her up from the inside out. He’d yet to touch or kiss her intimately, in all the places she ached, though she felt as though he’d branded her in every elemental way. He’d seduced her mind, her body, her soul. The earthy masculine scent of him filled her head, making her dizzy with a need that went beyond the physical.

  She struggled to clear her mind of the desire making her weak, the desire making her want a man who wielded way too much power over her body and emotions. She silently cursed, angry at him for making her feel things she’d kept hidden for three years, and furious at her body’s traitorous response to his caresses. Dammit, she wanted Kyle Stephens, but she didn’t want to want him. Wanting him was dangerous. Wanting him made her vulnerable.

  And she refused to be susceptible to any man ever again.

  Feeling trapped and as if the situation was slipping beyond her control, she pressed her hands against his shoulders and gave a distinct push. The sudden move caught him off guard and he stumbled back a step, giving her enough room to slip off the side of the pool and into the water. With a deep breath of air, she dove beneath the surface and headed toward the deep end, away from him.

  When her lungs finally demanded oxygen and she came up for air, Kyle wasn’t where she’d left him. Her eyes searched the darkness, and her pulse raced at the thought of him beneath the water, hunting for her. She waited, listening, watching.

  He was gone. She realized that much when she finally noticed his clothes were no longer where he’d left them.

  She shivered, the chill settling deep. The only indication she hadn’t imagined the whole tryst was the trail of wet footprints leading out the gate.

  Chapter Three

  She couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer.

  Jade finished changing from the outfit she’d worn that day at the office to a pair of comfortable violet-and-pink plaid leggings and a purple silk tank top. Kyle was home; she’d seen his Jeep when she’d parked her car. And she had a piece of his mail she’d been holding onto for two days. Considering their mailboxes didn’t have convenient slots to drop misdelivered mail into, she was obligated to hand deliver this letter herself.

  She hadn’t seen him in four days, ever since the surreal night at the pool when he’d seduced her, then disappeared, leaving her bereft and bewildered by the whole scenario. She had to admit, at least to herself, that avoiding him was deliberate and planned on her part, though she was never certain what Kyle’s strategy might be. He was a master at catching her off guard, when she least expected to see him.

  Their day and night schedules had conflicted over the past few days, enough to keep them missing one another in the lobby, and it seemed Kyle was spending more time out than in, arriving home after midnight. That she noticed when his lights went on in his condo irritated her. One night, she’d sat out on her darkened balcony and watched his silhouette through the thin curtains of his sliding door as he’d moved around his bedroom and stripped off his clothes.

  Her heart pounded at the memory, at the way her body had warmed in an instinctive, feminine way. It was crazy. He’d been clear across the courtyard and oblivious to her harmless voyeurism, but now she knew exactly what Kyle was capable of doing to her senses, her body. Her imagination had taken over from there, creating a fantasy that fulfilled the ache deep within her.

  There wasn’t much she could do about the loneliness that came in the aftermath.

  Slipping into a pair of espadrilles, she exited her bedroom, determined to leave her private thoughts there as well, where they belonged. Picking up Kyle’s mail from her table, and grabbing her house keys from the counter, she headed toward the other side of the complex.

  Interestingly enough, the return address was from a Christy Stephens in Detroit, Michigan, which piqued her curiosity, making her wonder who this mystery woman was. Sister? Mother? Ex-wife? She realized she didn’t know much about Kyle’s personal life other than the fact that he owned The Black Sheep bar, but then she’d never allowed their relationship to extend beyond acquaintance.

  Until she’d gone for a moonlight swim. That night they’d been intimate in a way that made familiar seem tame and boring. He’d gotten under her skin, touched the part of her soul hungry for a man’s touch. It was as if he’d known what she wanted, what she needed…

  But the emotional risk of accepting what Kyle offered was too destructive, as she well knew. She could fall hard and deep for Kyle Stephens and his playful, sometimes reckless behavior, but it was his unflappable confidence and assertive nature that threatened her own confidence,
and her judgment.

  Determined to take a giant step back to secure those boundaries he’d so boldly crossed, Jade knocked on his door. After what had transpired between them, it was impossible to think they could revert back to mere acquaintances, but she’d settle for being friends. Friends she could handle. Friends didn’t try and dictate your life and make unnecessary demands on your time.

  When a minute passed and no one answered the door, she rang the doorbell. Again she waited, then knocked louder, debating on slipping the letter under the door. She bent to do just that when the door opened and she found herself staring at bare feet. Slowly she straightened.

  She’d obviously caught Kyle fresh out of the shower, and considered herself lucky that he’d at least thrown on a pair of black jeans instead of greeting her in a towel wrapped around his hips. Droplets of water still clung to his defined and muscular chest. He stopped towel-drying his damp, shaggy hair and pushed the unruly strands away from his face with his fingers. Unabashed pleasure lit his sapphire blue eyes, along with an intimate knowledge that made her blood thrum heavily in her veins.

  It didn’t take much to guess he was thinking about their moonlight swim, and how he’d nearly made her come undone.

  She was determined not to go that route with him. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.

  “For you, it’s never a bad time.” Draping the towel around his neck, he leaned his shoulder against the door frame, which he nearly filled. His gaze did a slow, sweeping appraisal, generating a fever-warm sensation just beneath the surface of her skin. When his eyes met hers again, the depths were filled with a playful charm and a potent heat “Unless you want it to be,” he added with a reckless grin. “And in that case I’d be happy to oblige.”

  She didn’t doubt he’d give her a “bad” time, with satisfaction being the ultimate goal. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my visit is going to be short—”

  Her words died on her lips and her thoughts fled when he reached out and slid his fingers through the layered hair at the side of her face, his touch infinitely gentle. His brows lifted in bemusement as his gaze flickered over her hair, then to her eyes. Her pulse leapt, but she didn’t pull away.

  “You colored your hair,” he mused, testing the silk and texture of the strands between his fingers. “And it’s shorter and styled differently.”

  The man didn’t miss a thing. The color was a muted auburn that complimented her skin tone, and her hair had been cut into a soft, tousled style that her stylist, Pierre, had assured her looked chic and classy. “I had it done a few days ago.”

  And as she’d sat in the salon chair with the chemicals turning her golden brown hair into a soft cinnamon hue, she’d realized just how badly the episode at the pool with Kyle had rattled her. Her spur-of-the-moment decision to change her hair color and style had been a compulsive need to reassure herself she was still in control of herself as an individual. She recognized the symptom, a subtle act of rebellion to make sure no man made the mistake of thinking he could change her, or mold her into something she wasn’t ever again.

  Including Kyle Stephens.

  He tilted his head, as if to scrutinize her from another angle. His gaze pierced hers, making her feel as though he could see straight to her soul and was probing all her secrets. It was a disturbing sensation.

  “Who is the real Jade?” he murmured, gliding his thumb along her jaw to her chin.

  Only she knew, and she preferred to keep it that way. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she said in a vague, dismissive way.

  “Oh, I’m sure you do,” he countered, seeing past her aloofness. “I like the new haircut and color, sweetheart, but it doesn’t change the person inside.” Before she could formulate a response to that stunningly insightful remark, he stepped back and cleared the way for her to enter his condo. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll discuss this short, brief visit of yours?”

  She hesitated, knowing business between them could be conducted in a matter of seconds from where she stood. But there was that subtle dare in his eyes that provoked her rebellious nature, made her want to prove that she could be in the same room with him yet maintain her emotional distance.

  She stepped inside, and he closed the door, and she was immediately enveloped by the warm, masculine scents pervading the room. Heat and musk. Leather and wood, scents which reflected his choice of furnishings.

  “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  The word pleasure rolled off his tongue like a caress to her senses, making her remember the night at the pool, which was beginning to seem like a distant dream. Or another one of her unbridled fantasies. He’d yet to mention the incident, which made her wonder if her imagination had gone a little wild that evening, creating an erotic fantasy that had seemed real, but in fact had only been an illusion.

  Unwilling to ponder that unsettling thought any further, she handed him the envelope. “I got a letter addressed to you.”

  He took the letter without looking at it, feigning disappointment. “And here I was hoping you’d stopped by because you’d missed me.”

  She smiled and gathered up some much needed sass. “I know it must be a blow to that enormous ego of yours, but out of sight puts you out of mind.”

  He laughed, that giant ego unwounded by her words. “Then I’ll have to do something to remedy that.”

  She didn’t doubt that he would.

  Pulling the towel from around his neck, he draped it over the back of a barstool at the kitchen counter, then strolled into the adjoining living room. She casually followed him deeper into his bachelor domain, keeping her distance, while the decorator in her absorbed his understated, comfortable furnishings.

  Standing next to the chocolate-colored leather couch, Kyle ripped open the flap of the envelope and withdrew the correspondence within, all the while aware of the woman in his condo. Acutely so, considering she’d brought with her the faint scent of peaches, which was quickly becoming an aphrodisiac. That she’d actually stepped through the threshold was a wonder, and he wasn’t about to scare her off by crowding her.

  She expected him to take advantage of her being in his territory; he could see the wariness in her eyes, despite her sass. And the little tiger was out to prove she wasn’t intimidated by their close, private proximity. Physically she was safe, but he had no reservations about arousing her mentally, which he’d done at the door.

  She was waiting for him to mention their moonlight swim and gloat about her open, eager response to him. But he had no intention of breaking the spell of that magical, sensual night by dragging it out in the open and baring her deepest secrets. He’d given her her fantasy, and in return he’d been the one seduced by her sweetness and vulnerability, though he’d bet The Black Sheep that she’d never verbally admit to such a weakness. He saw her caution and reserve for what it was, but it didn’t deter him. Jade had become a fever that constantly burned through his veins. Not one of the women he’d had over the years had ever come close to stimulating him beyond a sexual level.

  Beyond a doubt, Jade aroused him sexually, but the added bonus of being matched intellectually was just as exhilarating, if not more so. Sparring with her was like foreplay, a seduction of senses, a slow building of sexual tension, a little naughty and damned exciting.

  Returning his attention to the correspondence, he unfolded the handwritten letter, surprised when half a dozen snapshots that had been enclosed fluttered to the floor. That’s what he got for paying more attention to Jade than what he was doing.

  The pictures went in six different directions, and while he bent to gather the ones by his feet, Jade picked up two that had drifted her way. She glanced at the snapshots of a young woman, then handed them back to him.

  Curiosity warmed her eyes to an intriguing shade of violet. “Is that your sister?”

  He grinned at her wrong assumption. “No, it’s my daughter, Christy.”

  Her eyes rounded in astonishment. “You have a daughte
r that old?”

  “Yep.” Mouth crooking in a fond smile, he gazed at a recent snapshot of Christy, who looked the spitting image of her mother, with golden-blond hair, brown eyes and a smile destined to break a lot of hearts. He sighed deeply, and somewhat regretfully, for all the years lost. “A just-turned-seventeen-year-old, boy-crazy, I-need-a-car-Dad, kind of daughter.”

  She scrutinized his face. “You don’t look old enough to have a seventeen-year-old daughter.”

  He knew she was mentally counting backward, trying to match his current age with how old he would have been when his daughter had been born. “I’m hitting the downhill slide of thirty-five,” he said, and before she had a chance to do any more quick mental math, he added, “Christy was born when I was eighteen.”

  She looked taken aback, and even more inquisitive than before. “That seems awfully young to start a family.”

  “It is,” he admitted, especially considering how close his own daughter was to that tender young age. “Unfortunately, at that age I wasn’t thinking much with my brain but that other part of my anatomy dictated by raging hormones. Christy is a result of a brief summer fling I had after graduating high school.”

  Jade moved to the oak wall unit and examined the other pictures he’d framed and set out. “Does she live with her mother?”

  “Yeah, back in Detroit.” After tucking the recent photos and letters back into the envelope, he set the correspondence on the coffee table. He always enjoyed reading his daughter’s letters; they were always full of amusing anecdotes about her life that made him smile, sometimes laugh out loud. They’d established a healthy friendship over the years, one that had become a precious treasure to him.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “That’s quite a ways from California.”

  And there were times when he felt every one of the miles that separated him from the two families he’d never really been a part of. “That’s where I’m from, and Christy’s mother, too.” He came up beside her and pointed to a framed photograph of his daughter standing between two adults. “That’s Christy’s mom, Jamie Ann, and her stepfather, Tony.”