Her Sexiest Fantasy (The Sexiest Series Book 2)

by Janelle Denison

  Grabbing the one she always kept clipped to the outside pocket of her purse, she handed it to him. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, and she realized at the same moment he stepped toward her that he didn’t have a piece of paper.

  Judging by the bad-boy gleam in his eyes, she had a wild suspicion he didn’t have any intention of using one.

  His thighs pinned hers, and the automatic objection that rose in her throat dissolved into a groan as intense body heat and the heady, male scent of him surrounded her. She felt drugged and dizzy, unable to form a coherent word or thought. Before she could react or regain her wits, he deftly unfastened the top button on her blouse, swept the collar aside, and brazenly scrawled his home and work number on the full swell of her breast, right over her racing-out-of-control heart and just above the delicate, sheer lace cupping the mounds of flesh. To her mortification, her nipples grew tight and hard. Achingly so.

  Cheeks flaming, she gaped at him, too stunned by his scandalous stunt to get angry. Too shocked by her body’s hot, shameless response to his touch to slap his hand away.

  When he was done, he lifted his head and casually restored her blouse to order. “Call anytime,” he murmured, a wolfish smile claiming his lips, a smile so predatory she knew the pursuit was far from over, no matter how professional she planned to be.

  He turned and walked away, leaving her standing on shaky legs and fighting a fierce rush of desire she had no defense against.

  She wanted Kyle Stephens.

  She pressed her palms to her warm cheeks and shuddered in denial. He was dangerous. Threatening all her emotional barriers. Seducing her mind and body with little effort, seemingly knowing just what she wanted. What she needed. Physically and emotionally.

  Lord help her, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could resist him.

  And that knowledge frightened her most of all.

  Chapter Four

  The heat of the sun overhead warmed her skin and intensified the scent of the ripe, plump peach her lover held to her lips. Her mouth watered for a taste, and she closed her eyes and licked her lips in anticipation.

  “Take a bite,” he murmured.

  She did, sinking her teeth deep into the lush fruit. A sweet burst of flavor filled her mouth, and she moaned in pleasure before taking another bite. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she lifted her hand to wipe it away.

  He reached out and caught her wrist. “Don’t. I’ll do it for you…when I’m done.”

  She shivered at the promise in his gaze, and the deliberate way he squeezed the peach in his hand, mashing it into pulp. With his thumb he dug out the pit and flicked it onto the grass. A slow, wicked grin lifted his mouth.

  Guessing his intent, she attempted to scramble away. He caught her around the waist and playfully tumbled her onto her back on the soft blanket beneath them. He straddled her waist, pinning her arms to her sides with his muscular thighs.

  All play ceased, but that’s exactly what she wanted. Her breathing deepened as, slowly, he undid the buttons on the front of her dress and spread the sides open. Unclasping her bra, he pushed that aside as well. Her breasts swelled beneath his dark gaze and her nipples hardened into tight peaks. She arched in subtle invitation.

  Obliging her, he smeared the cool, slick pulp over the curves of her breasts, kneading and shaping the plump flesh in his hands before he lowered his body alongside hers and feasted on the fruit. His tongue lapped her breasts in long, languid strokes until finally, his mouth closed over a nipple and suckled deeply.

  A sharp gasp caught in her throat and she speared her fingers through his hair, holding him to her breast and twining her legs around his as breathtaking pleasure flooded her limbs and her body softened just for him…

  * * *

  “Christ.” Breathing as though there was a lack of oxygen in the room, Kyle swore again, more bluntly this time, and tossed Jade’s journal onto the bed next to where he lay. His body was rock-hard, his mind just as seduced by her fantasy. He scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the images that were sending blood straight toward his groin.

  Stupid idea. All he could see was Jade, spread out on a blanket in a meadow, her breasts shimmering from sunlight and peach nectar, and her dress tangled around her thighs, revealing long, slim legs splayed enticingly. And all he could think about was sliding between those thighs, wrapping those incredible legs tight around his waist and burying himself to the hilt. He’d give her more pleasure than she could imagine, and he’d take her places her fantasy lover didn’t even know existed—dark, provocative places where inhibitions weren’t allowed, and every adventurous thrill and erotic fantasy was fulfilled. By him.

  He stroked his hand over the thick bulge in his jeans, and groaned deep in his throat. Popping the button, he unzipped his fly to release some of the pressure. Unfortunately only one person could ease the ache. Jade.

  Drawing in a deep breath to reduce the tension in his body, he stacked his hands beneath his head and focused his thoughts on something other than sex. Staring at the shadows on the ceiling cast by the lamp on his nightstand, he steered his mind toward another topic: the complex facets of Jade Stevens.

  Her fantasies told him a lot about the woman who seemed so wary of men. As he read further along in her journal, Jade progressed in intimacy with her lover, becoming bolder and less reserved in her explorations. The first fantasy had been sweet, an awakening of her sensuality. A testing of boundaries and establishing them. Now, she was using that sexual confidence to fulfill her secret desires. He’d found all kinds of fantasies, some playful, some intense, and a few that were downright erotic and wild, yet in none of them had she and her fantasy lover actually gone all the way.

  Jade’s imagined lover had more willpower than he possessed, Kyle thought wryly, but then that was the crux of Jade’s fantasies. She had complete control over what happened between her and her lover. And for some reason, she was avoiding the ultimate act of intimacy with the man she’d created for her private pleasure.

  The way she’d physically responded to him during their midnight swim, then suddenly retreated, led Kyle to believe Jade’s resistance was more of an emotional issue. Her fantasies had all the earmarkings of a passionate woman who wanted to be cherished and desired, but feared losing a vital part of herself in the richest culmination of intimacy.

  He wondered what idiot had burned her badly enough to make her suspicious of the male population on such a personal, private level.

  He intended to find out.

  And he intended to have her.

  But first, she had to be willing, her mind and emotions in sync with the demands of her body. He wanted more than superficial sex, and no less than her complete surrender.

  Body and soul.

  * * *

  Jade glanced at her watch as she made her way toward the entrance of The Black Sheep, and cringed. She was forty minutes late for her five o’clock appointment with Kyle. Her earlier appointment ran behind, then she’d gotten stuck in rush-hour traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. She’d called from her mobile phone and left a message with Kyle’s bartender, Bruce, to let his boss know she was on her way.

  It had been a hectic day, and although she was exhausted, she was looking forward to starting her newest project—transforming The Black Sheep into a restaurant and bar that would give Roxy’s a run for their money. It was exhilarating to think that the new Black Sheep’s success depended significantly on her ability to make over the place so that it would draw people into the establishment. Good food, service and atmosphere would keep them coming back.

  She pushed open a heavy oak door and stepped inside. The lighting was dim, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust, though she could tell by the din of voices and raucous laughter that happy hour was well underway. A chalkboard just inside the entrance boasted tonight’s drink special: Peach Daiquiris.

  Moving deeper into the large, sectioned building, she glanced around, taking
in the raw basics she had to work with, and hoping to find Kyle in the process. The place was just as she’d imagined—a hole-in-the-wall kind of establishment. A place where people met for a casual drink after a long day at work to unwind and shoot the bull.

  A scarred mahogany-and-brass bar stretched the length of one side of the room, where a good-looking, dark-haired man poured drinks and set them on the counter for the bar waitresses to deliver. Booths upholstered in red vinyl rimmed the lounge area, along with wooden tables and chairs, most of which were already taken. Sawdust covered the hardwood floor, and a game room adjoined the bar area, where customers tried their hand at darts or played pool at one of the two tables there. Musical entertainment came in the form of a jukebox belting out country-western tunes.

  There was a certain appeal to the place, a warmth and friendliness that drew a person, despite the establishment’s outdated furnishings and rundown appearance. From a designer’s standpoint, the place showed a whole lot of promise. With the adjoining restaurant opening soon, The Black Sheep had the potential to be one of the hottest nightspots off Pacific Coast Highway.

  The Black Sheep’s clientele was unpretentious and laid-back, she decided. There wasn’t a designer suit or stuffy executive in sight. No, the dress code slanted toward denim, leather and cowboy boots.

  Dressed in a pant suit and three-inch heels, she felt as out of place as a sheep in a den of wolves…and the wolves were eyeing her as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  Shrugging off her unease, and ignoring the bawdy laughter at a nearby table, she strolled through the lounge and toward the bar. The cocktail waitress gave her a curious glance as she passed with a tray full of drinks. The bartender’s gaze was speculative as well, though his smile was friendly and very welcoming.

  “Excuse me, do you know where I can find Kyle?” she asked, loud enough to be heard over the din. “I had an appointment with him, and I’m a little late.”

  “You must be Jade.” At her nod, the bartender wiped his hand on a towel and extended it toward her. She shifted her attaché and purse to her left hand and shook his hand. “I’m Bruce, the guy you spoke with on the phone. I hear you’re going to give The Black Sheep a new look.”

  She grinned, feeling completely at ease with Bruce. “I’m going to give it my best.”

  “Kyle went to the storeroom to get more peaches.” He shook his head ruefully and cleared the empty glasses off the bar top that the waitress had left. “I thought he was crazy when he suggested peach daiquiris for this evening’s special, we don’t sell a lot of them on the whole, but it seems they’re pretty popular tonight.”

  Now I know why you always smell like peaches. Ripe, juicy peaches. I can’t help but wonder if you taste just as sweet. Jade’s stomach dipped at the memory of Kyle murmuring those words in her ear just a few short weeks ago. She wondered if the special was for her benefit, and couldn’t contain the involuntary pleasure that spread through her at the thought.

  “There he is now,” Bruce said, nodding his head toward the opposite end of the bar.

  “Thanks.” Jade started toward Kyle, trying to keep her balance steady under the crunch of sawdust beneath her heels. The sawdust, she decided, would be one of the first things to go. Especially since it covered a beautiful hardwood floor that would gleam once it was refinished and polished.

  He glanced up from the colander of fresh peeled peaches he set on the service area of the bar, and smiled. “Welcome to The Black Sheep.”

  Returning the smile, she slid onto the last bar stool and set her belongings in front of her. “Sorry I’m late.”

  His eyes danced with humor. “Thanks for calling so I didn’t think you stood me up. How about a peach daiquiri?” Picking up a paring knife and a peach, he began slicing the ripe fruit, filling the blender in front of him with the fat chunks. “Tonight’s special is in your honor.”

  Propping her elbows on the mahogany surface, she laced her fingers and rested her chin on top. “You’re mighty presumptuous. What makes you think I like the taste of peaches?”

  “Don’t you?” With his brow arched mockingly, he picked up a thick, succulent wedge of peach, braced his arms on the top of the bar, and leaned toward her, teasing her bottom lip with the cool, sweet piece of fruit. Her tongue automatically darted out, catching a drop of juice before it trickled down her chin.

  “Take a bite,” he murmured.

  It wasn’t a request, but a challenge, issued in his usual bold manner. All she had to do was sit back to break the spell, but the dare in his eyes kept her from retreating. There was something about Kyle that made her feel wild, spontaneous and reckless. The lush scent of peach filled her senses, awakening a memory—a long-ago fantasy that blended the warmth of summer with slow hands sliding on her body—but then it quickly faded.

  At the far end of the bar out of sight from the customers, Jade gave in to the temptation in Kyle’s eyes. She bit into the wedge of peach, and nearly groaned at the delectable sweetness that filled her mouth. Savoring the taste, she let Kyle feed her the last of the fruit until it was gone. He watched her, his eyes darkening to an arousing shade of midnight blue.

  Dragging his thumb across her damp bottom lip, he brought that same finger to his mouth and sucked off the juice. “Ummm. I guess I was right after all. You do like the taste of peaches.”

  A pleasant hum of awareness rippled through her blood, and she managed a smile. “Yeah, I do,” she admitted.

  “Then you’ll love my special peach daiquiri.” Straightening, he grabbed another peach and finished filling the blender with the fruit.

  Drawing a deep breath, Jade glanced around while Kyle prepared her drink. Bruce and the bar waitresses wore what was obviously the bar’s uniform, a black T-shirt with The Black Sheep emblazoned across the chest in white lettering and black jeans. That would have to be modified, too. Nothing drastic, and the look could still be casual, but it didn’t make sense to give The Black Sheep a new look without including the staff’s attire as well.

  Hooking the heel of one of her shoes on the brass rung at the base of her stool, she crossed one leg over the other and returned her attention to Kyle. He seemed completely at ease behind the bar, lightly flirting with the cocktail waitresses as they waited for their orders and greeting customers by name as they passed through the lounge. He excused himself from her side of the bar for a few minutes to help Bruce with the overflow of drink orders, then spoke with each patron sitting at the bar as if they were old friends before returning to finish blending her daiquiri. The atmosphere suited Kyle, and she found herself enjoying him and the friendly, laid-back ambiance of the country-western bar.

  “How long have you been bartending?” she asked.

  “Since I was twenty-two.” He added a shot of liquor to the peach mixture in the blender and glanced up at her as he hit a button that whipped the concoction into a thick, smooth drink. “I was fresh out of the service and looking for a job. I started out as a busboy at a seafood restaurant in Venice Beach, figuring it was income until something better came along. Within six months they moved me up to bartending, and I loved it, especially meeting new people. Not an impressive career goal, but it paid the bills and kept a roof over my head.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, waving her hand to indicate everything around him, “you look pretty successful to me. It’s not easy owning your own business.”

  A crooked smile canted his mouth, but there were shadows in his gaze that reflected a bitterness she didn’t understand. And a glimpse of loneliness that made her heart catch. “It’s been a long, hard road getting to this point, but it sure beats the hell out of being a lawyer.”

  She grinned, trying to envision Kyle in a suit and tie and a GQ haircut, and failed. He was too much of a rebel. “It’s hard to imagine you as a stuffy lawyer.”

  “Too bad my father doesn’t understand that.” He reached for a glass and set it on the cocktail napkin he placed in front of her, then turned off the blender. “M
y family doesn’t exactly approve of my chosen profession.” After pouring the thick mixture into her glass, he poked in a straw and set a peach wedge on the rim. “Actually, when it came to me, there wasn’t much they approved of at all. But I have to admit that I didn’t make life easy for them. According to my father, I was nothing but trouble since I was three and crawled into his Mercedes, managed to put the car into Neutral, and coasted down the driveway and crashed into our neighbor’s house.”

  She burst out laughing, and even though he chuckled with her, she realized that deep down, there was so much more to Kyle than his carefree ways. There was a complexity to the man that included a seemingly unsupportive family and a past tangled with resentments. Not to mention a child out of wedlock.

  She ached for him, and that brief connecting emotion surprised her. She didn’t want to care about Kyle, didn’t want to think that beneath his flirting there was a man who had flaws. A man who might be as lonely as she, but had resigned himself to being a bachelor because it was safe. She identified with that feeling all too well.

  Dismissing the direction of her thoughts, she lifted her glass and took a healthy sip of the drink. She made a sound of pure pleasure as a rich, creamy peach-and-vanilla flavor sank into her taste buds. This was like no drink she’d ever tasted, and knew Kyle had forever spoiled her for just any ordinary peach daiquiri.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Delicious. It tastes like a peach Creamsicle.” She licked her bottom lip and took another drink, wondering if Kyle had secretly discovered the way to her heart. “I have to admit that it’s the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Not quite the best you’ve ever had,” he said, his words oozing sexual connotation. “But we can easily change that.”

  Knowing he was far more potent than one-hundred-proof liquor, she said, “I’ll stick to the drink.”

  He grinned but didn’t pursue his seduction. Instead, he grabbed a damp rag and wiped down the counter. “So, what do you think of the place?”