Pure Temptation

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The cooler beside him with a bottle of wine inside had been easy to pass by his parents. He’d taken wine over to Tess’s house before. But he’d sneaked the daisy chain he’d made into the cooler when no one was around. His mother did seem to be watching him a little more closely, so he’d have to be careful about similar preparations in the future.

  The future. A terrible thought came to him. Maybe tonight was all there would be. After all, once he’d taken care of Tess’s virginity problem, she wouldn’t need to continue this risky business, even though she’d be in Copperville for the rest of the summer. For some reason, he hadn’t figured that out. He’d been “hired” for a specific job, and after tonight the job would be over.

  Hell, he couldn’t think about that or he’d be too depressed to enjoy himself. And he definitely planned to enjoy himself. If her brothers ever found out about any of this, his goose was not only cooked, it was fried, so he might as well make the reward worth the risk. Tonight would be one for the record books.

  He parked in her driveway and discovered he was shaking like a newborn colt. The lights in the living room were muted, but he doubted that’s where she was. Heart pounding, he got out of the truck with the cooler and walked up the steps to her front porch.

  Sure enough, the front door was unlocked. He walked in, his chest tight from the effort to breathe normally, and stepped on a daisy. A trail of them led from the front door down the hall. He turned and locked the door.

  Quietly setting the cooler and his hat on the coffee table, he opened the cooler and took out the daisy chain and the wine. First he glanced at the unopened bottle and then at the trail of daisies leading, no doubt, to her bed. If he didn’t open the bottle now, it might never be opened.

  Sidestepping the daisies, he walked into the kitchen, found the corkscrew and opened the wine. His hands weren’t completely steady, but he managed to take two goblets from the cupboard without dropping them. With the daisy chain looped around one arm, the wine in one hand and the glasses in the other, he took a deep breath and started down the hall, following the daisies.

  He’d prepared himself for the tempting sight of Tess lounging on her bed with very little on. After all, they’d gone swimming together hundreds of times, so he knew what she looked like in a bathing suit. This wouldn’t be all that different, probably.

  Wrong.

  The scene she’d created left him breathless. His blood hammered through his veins as he gazed at every man’s fantasy—a virgin trapped in a bordello.

  Red velvet swags and red bulbs in the lamps gave the room a glow of sinful pleasure. His furry gloves lay waiting on a bedside table. On the other, a tray of food that could have been plucked right out of an orgy offered plump red tomatoes, velvet-ripe peaches, chilled asparagus, and clusters of moist grapes.

  Whether it was the fruit or some exotic fragrance Tess had added, the room already seemed to smell of sex, and a stereo played soft, yet subtly persuasive music with an underlying beat that mimicked the rhythm of lovemaking. Gilt-framed mirrors propped at various angles all reflected the centerpiece of the room, a bed covered in virginal white satin and mounded with satin pillows of all shapes and sizes.

  Reclining on that nest of pillows was a woman Mac barely recognized. Although the scraps of white satin covering her breasts seemed inconsequential, they managed to emphasize her cleavage, where the pearl necklace lay cradled by her soft body. His gaze traveled to the white lace garter belt and panties, which defined her femaleness in ways he’d never imagined. The garters were fastened to white silk stockings with a sheen like pearls and lace tops circling her thighs. Last of all he absorbed the fact that Tess, the woman who believed in no-nonsense running shoes and well-worn boots, was wearing a pair of white sandals with four-inch heels.

  Tess gave him a slow smile. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t—” He swallowed. “I don’t believe this is about thinking.”

  “True.” Her gaze traveled to his crotch. “I have the reaction I wanted. Would you like…to get out of those clothes? They seem a bit…tight.”

  “Um, yeah.” He looked down and realized he was still holding the wine bottle, glasses and daisy chain, but his brain was so fuzzy he couldn’t decide what to do with them. It was a wonder he hadn’t poured the wine on the carpet.

  She held out both hands. “I’ll hold the bottle. And the daisies. I can pour us some wine if you want while you’re taking off your clothes.”

  He gazed at her holding out her arms to him in that welcoming fashion and had the urge to toss the wine and glasses over his shoulder and join her immediately on that tempting bed. He groaned softly and shook his head to clear it. He’d need every ounce of control at his command in order to make this the slow seduction he’d planned.

  “Is anything the matter?” she asked.

  “Only that you’ve blown me away, and I’m struggling to get my bearings.”

  “I really did that?”

  “Yeah, you really did that.” He handed her the bottle and glasses. After she set them next to the tray of food, he gave her the daisy chain. “I’m usually a little more suave when I walk into a lady’s bedroom with wine and flowers. I usually present them instead of waiting for her to ask.”

  “Oh.” She grinned, and he caught a calming glimpse of the other Tess, the one who loved climbing trees and eating cotton candy. “Thank you for the wine and flowers,” she said demurely. Then she put the daisies around her neck. They draped her breasts like a lei, drawing attention to the provocative swell above the tiny garment she wore. “How’s that?”

  “More exciting than I could have predicted.”

  She looked into his eyes, her own filled with an intensity to match his. “It is exciting, isn’t it? Us, and…all of this. Who would have thought?”

  “Not me.”

  She glanced at the wine. “The books say alcohol dulls sensual pleasure.”

  “I thought you’d need to relax.” He chuckled. “Maybe I need it more than you do. You don’t look nervous at all.”

  “I have a million butterflies inside.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. I’ve never acted this way with a man in my life.”

  He was humbled as he thought what a gift she was giving him. “That makes tonight very special. For me, too.”

  “I’m glad. You know, maybe a little wine wouldn’t hurt.”

  “I’m so keyed up I can guarantee it won’t affect me.”

  “And I don’t want to be inhibited.”

  He laughed. “This is inhibited?”

  “Sort of. The books say that a woman can drive a man crazy if he comes into the bedroom and finds her…touching herself.”

  He gulped. “Really.” From the painful bulge in his jeans, the books must be right. “And some wine might encourage you along those lines?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then drink up.”

  Her cheeks grew pink. “Just a little, then.” She reached over to the nightstand and poured them each half a glass. Then she picked hers up and leaned back against the pillows. “Now undress for me, Mac. And make it slow.”

  His jaw slackened. “What do you mean, slow?”

  “Tease me a little. Build the suspense.” She swirled her wine in her goblet and took a sip, watching him over the rim of her glass.

  His body quivered in anticipation while his mind balked. “What suspense? You’ve seen every part of me. And I can say that with conviction after the other night. What difference does it make how I take off my clothes now?”

  “Believe me, it makes a difference. And keep your eyes on me the whole time you’re doing it.”

  Suspicion made him frown. “How do you know it makes a difference?”

  “A friend of mine in college had a male stripper for her twenty-first birthday party. He was very good.”

  “I’m not a male stripper!”

  “Your body is even nicer than his.” She rubbed the wineglass slowly back and forth across h
er lower lip. Then she circled the rim with her tongue and licked an imaginary drop off the side of the glass. She turned to him with a smile. “I’ll make it worth your while, cowboy.”

  He wanted to laugh and make light of her blatant attempt to remind him of what she’d accomplished the other night. But the laughter stuck in his throat as he gazed helplessly at her mouth and remembered. With that gesture of her pink tongue moving over the wineglass, she probably could have persuaded him to drink arsenic.

  He settled for drinking the wine she’d poured. Walking over to the nightstand, he picked up his glass and drained it. He set down the empty glass, took off his watch and laid it next to the glass. Then he emptied the condoms out of his pocket and put those on the table, too.

  She glanced at them and back at him. “I have some, you know.”

  “How did you know what size?”

  “I had a good idea.”

  He remembered her hands on him, her mouth taking him in, and agreed silently that yes, she probably did know.

  “So, will you strip for me, Mac?”

  He gazed at her. “Swear to me you’ll never tell anyone,” he said as a last attempt at self-preservation.

  “I swear on the tomb of old King Tut, take a willow switch to my butt.”

  That crazy rhyme they’d made up as kids took on erotic meaning when spoken by a sexy wench reclining in her red velvet and white satin room of seduction. “Is that a suggestion?”

  “Not exactly. I haven’t done much research into spanking fantasies.” She picked up a remote control and pushed a button. The volume of the music increased a fraction, the beat becoming more insistent. “Now do it, MacDougal. Make me squirm.”

  TESS TRIED TO LOOK composed as she lay against the pillows and waited for Mac to undress, but inside she was churning with anticipation. He had no idea what a beautiful body he had, and in the past she hadn’t allowed herself to admire it much, either. But that was then. This was now.

  He’d worn a long-sleeved western shirt even though it was summer. Like most cowboys, he kept mostly long-sleeved shirts in his closet, because they’d protect his arms from whipping branches on a wild cross-country ride. If he got too hot, he’d roll the sleeves back, but Mac had come to her tonight in dress mode, the sleeves snapped at his wrists.

  Slowly he unsnapped them, his habitual movements executed with tantalizing care. Her heartbeat quickened. He was really going to do this for her.

  She sipped her wine as he started on the top fastener of his shirt. Keeping his gaze on her, he made his way gradually down the row. Each soft pop of a snap was like the flare of a match lighting a new fuse. She hungered for each snap to release, each section of newly exposed skin.

  He languidly pulled the shirt from his jeans so it hung open. She waited for him to take it off. Memories flashed by, more potent than she’d realized, of Mac stripping off his T-shirt and using it to mop his face when he’d helped her parents paint their house one summer, of Mac lying bare-chested beside the river one hot afternoon, his fishing pole anchored in the sand, his hat over his eyes.

  She’d enjoyed the view then—she wanted it now. Instead, as if to gently torture her, he walked over to a chair and sat down. He drew off one boot with great deliberation, and then the other, all the while keeping his attention on her. His socks followed.

  He’s undressing because he’s going to make love to me. The thought washed over her like a caress, moistening her with need.

  He stood and walked toward her. “I’ve decided two can play this game.”

  “You have?” Her voice was breathy, not at all the way she normally sounded.

  “You did a good job on the phone. If you unhook your bra for me now, I can watch.”

  She trembled. Darkness had protected her during their first encounter, distance and a telephone line the second. She wanted to be bold and daring this time, to experience the wonders she’d only read about. Mac was asking her to do that.

  Following his lead, she drank the rest of her wine and set the empty glass on the table next to his.

  “And do it slow,” he murmured.

  Heart pounding, she leaned back against the pillows and eased her fingers over the clasp holding the silken cups. Then she waited as he took off his shirt and she could finally admire his sculpted torso. With her eyes she traced the scar on his shoulder from a scrape with barbed wire, another on his arm from a run-in with a bull. The scars only made him seem more masculine.

  He was magnificent. No wonder she’d loved wrestling with him when they were teenagers. She wanted to do more than that now.

  He stood, hands on hips, and lifted his eyebrows, clearly indicating it was her turn.

  She applied pressure to the clasp and it gave way, but she held it closed as she reached up and slid one shoulder strap down. Then she slid the other strap down. Slowly, slowly she allowed the garment to part and fall away, leaving only the pearl necklace and his daisies. The chain of flowers caught on one nipple, causing it to pucker. Instinct prompted her to brush the daisy chain across her other nipple, arousing it, too.

  His gaze darkened and he sucked in a breath.

  She paused and flicked her glance toward his belt.

  His attention never left her breasts as he eased the buckle open and pulled the belt slowly from the loops. “Now touch them,” he whispered.

  Her heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Sliding both hands up her rib cage, she cradled the weight of her breasts, lifting them as if in offering. Then she drew her thumbs down over the nipples, caressing herself.

  “Oh, Tess.” His hands shook as he unfastened his jeans.

  The effect of sliding her thumbs over her breasts while he watched was incredible. Sensation poured downward to the juncture of her thighs, pooling and throbbing there, demanding satisfaction. Now she knew what fulfillment felt like, and she wanted it again.

  He shoved jeans and boxers away, no longer measuring his movements.

  The sight of his aroused body brought a quiet moan from her lips. Her desire had a shape now, as instinct made her aware of a hollowness that ached for what he could provide. More than release, she wanted to be filled.

  He came to the edge of the bed. “You said you’d feed me.”

  “Yes.” Her breathing was quick and shallow. “Whatever you want.”

  “That’s good to hear.” His voice was husky as he put a knee on the satin sheets. “I see what I want.” He gently moved her hand aside and replaced it with his own.

  At the remembered touch, her heart thundered in her chest. “Is there…anything I can do?”

  “Arch your back,” he murmured.

  She did, lifting her breasts.

  He used his teeth to lift the daisies away. When he drew her nipple into his mouth, she gasped with the realization that she was nearly at the point of climax. He’d had to coax her before, but no longer. Apparently this time she’d need only the fantasy they created in this room to become a wild woman. She hoped Mac was ready for that.

  10

  FOR THREE DAYS Mac had been dreaming about Tess’s body. To taste and caress her breasts, to kiss and nibble and suck to his heart’s content, was heaven. As the tempo of her breathing quickened, he lightened his touch, not wanting to bring her to the brink too fast. They had hours to enjoy each other. And besides, he knew where he wanted to be when she climaxed this time.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

  “You, too.” She ran her hands over his chest, brushing his nipples until they became as taut as the rest of him. She reached lower.

  “Not yet.” He drew back, knowing he couldn’t tolerate her hands on him there until he was more in control. He teased the daisy chain over her skin, tinged rose by the lamps, and caused her to flush even pinker. Pollen scattered over her breasts and he licked it off. Then he took the pearl in his teeth.

  Still fondling her breasts, he eased up and transferred the pearl to her mouth. As it lay against her tongue, he toyed with it with his own tong
ue in a blatantly suggestive way. He wondered if she knew that he was telling her, if she understood what he had in mind. If not, she would find out very soon. He was hungry for her.

  With one last flick of his tongue over the pearl, he lifted it from her mouth and eased downward, depositing it, moist and shining, in the valley between her breasts. “Do you know what I want now?” he whispered against her skin.

  “I…think I do.”

  “Are you ready for that?”

  Her breathing grew ragged. “If you are.”

  “I crave you. All of you.”

  Her breath caught. “But I…might go crazy.”

  “That was my plan.” Heart racing, he began his journey, kissing his way along her downy soft skin to her navel. The scent of her cologne mixed with the perfume of crushed flowers and the heady aroma of arousal as he dipped his tongue into the small depression. She moaned and twitched beneath him.

  He moved lower. The silk of her stockings and the ridiculously high heels excited him more than he wanted to admit, and he decided not to disturb any of it yet. The damp scrap of lace covering the object of his quest was easily drawn aside. Ah, she was so pretty. So drenched with need.

  He touched her gently with one finger and she gasped. He kept his caress subtle as he planted lingering kisses along her inner thigh and ran his tongue over the lacy top of her stocking. Desire surged through him as he lavished the same attention on her other thigh, moving ever higher, ever closer to his goal.

  At last he kissed her dark curls, and she moaned. When he finally touched his tongue to the delicate pearl nestled there waiting for him, she writhed beneath him. Suddenly impatient with the thin strip of lace denying him total access, he held it between his fingers and tore it with his teeth. Now.

  Easing his shoulders under her silk-clad thighs, he sought his reward. The taste of her made him groan with delight. As her cries of pleasure filled the room, he immersed himself in sensory overload, relishing the stockings, the shoes, the rosy light, the satin sheets, the erotic music, and most of all, the passionate woman coming apart in his arms.