Some Like It Hot

by Susan Andersen

  “And I have to thank you again for the party.”

  “You’re welcome again,” she said, silently willing him to look at her.

  “This was great, really great,” he said in a low voice.

  It always clutched at something deep inside of her, the way he was so unabashedly grateful for any little thing anyone did for him. It was hard wrapping her mind around how sterile his childhood must have been, but she sure appreciated the miracle of how well he’d turned out in spite of it.

  “And it’s not even over yet,” she said lightly. The trash bag that she’d been tossing used napkins, plates, cups and torn wrapping paper and ribbon into sagged in her hands as she admired the shift of muscles in his back when he lifted a stack of folding chairs five deep onto the shelf that held them.

  He stilled, his hands still braced on the outer edges of the chairs, then slowly craned his head to look at her over a big shoulder. He must have read something in her eyes, because his own commenced a slow smolder. “That a fact?”

  “It is. Giving you a ride home was meant to be, since you need to take me back to your place in order to get your present from me.”

  With a final pat for the shelved chairs, he turned to face her. “You don’t think this party and all the work you put into it is enough? You decided you needed to buy me something, too?”

  “Not exactly.” For nearly the first time since he’d walked into the room to the cries of “Surprise!” she allowed her gaze to roam to her heart’s content from the top of his dark hair to the soles of his dress shoes, scoping out every hard plane and rounded muscle in between. “It’s more of a...service.”

  “Yeah?” He took a step nearer.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You gonna wash my car for the next month?”

  “Nope.”

  “Make me nutritious meals, maybe?”

  She shook her head, then laughed. “Well, possibly. But that’s not it.”

  He took another step in her direction. “Swiffer my floors?”

  “I don’t do floors or windows.”

  “Make my bed?”

  “You’re getting warmer.”

  His long legs ate up another giant step. “How much warmer?”

  “Well, if you must ruin the surprise—”

  “And I find I must,” he agreed, crossing muscular arms across his chest.

  “I thought I’d help you wreck it instead.”

  Electricity seemed to spark as they considered each other. The moment played out until finally Max, with a visible effort, tore his gaze away to glance once around the room. “Looks good to me. Let’s go.”

  She rattled the trash bag in her hands. “There’s just a few more things that need to be thrown in here.”

  With blinding speed, he snatched up every last piece of party detritus, tossed them in the bag, snugged up the plastic drawstrings and slung the bag over his shoulder, clearly prepared to throw it in the Dumpster on his way to her car. The hand he wrapped around her own was hard and hot, but that was nothing compared to the heat in his eyes as he stared down at her. That damn near left singe marks.

  “Like I said, let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HARPER PULLED UP in front of Max’s house and had barely shut down the engine before he had the passenger door open and was outside circling the hood with long-legged strides. She’d witnessed his almost catlike grace before. Yet maybe because it wasn’t all that common for a man of his size and muscularity to be so fluid, she was struck anew every time she saw it.

  He yanked her door open. The guy was all broad shoulders and lean hips, his eyes burning down at her with a fierce intensity. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’d like to be all suave about this,” he said in a low, gritty voice, “but I’ve wanted you from the minute I clapped eyes on you the day you came with Jenny to the baseball field. Suave is beyond me at the moment.”

  God, her heart was pounding, and for a second she simply stared up at him. No one had ever looked at her, talked to her like this, as if she were a slice of mochaccino cheesecake that he was ready to eat with his bare hands. Unbuckling her seat belt, she swung her legs out of the car and extended a hand to Max. She’d had a lifetime of smooth, urbane men. And compared to him? “Suave is boring.”

  The corner of his so very nicely shaped mouth ticked up, and he reached for her hand, helping her out of the car. “Yeah?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “So, What’s your stance on caveman tactics? Those work for you?” He stroked a thumb down her cheek.

  “Pretty much—as long as it doesn’t involve being dragged by my hair. I’m not into having my hair torn out by the roots.”

  He hustled her up the porch stairs and dug a house key out of his pocket. “I’ll shoot for more finesse than that.” Opening the door, he ushered her in.

  Kicking it shut behind them, he crowded her against its solid panels. “You look really pretty today.” Linking their fingers, he pressed her hands against the cool wood above her head. The position sent her skinny copper, silver and rose-gold bangles sliding down her left forearm almost to her elbow. “This dress rocks.”

  He stepped in close but not quite close enough to touch except at their hands and forearms, and the heat, the feel of even that much, made her blood burn. “And that’s about the extent of my finesse.”

  His deep voice reverberated along her nerve endings, and she was focused on the sensation when he lowered his head and rocked his mouth over hers.

  Like a man on a mission.

  She moaned deep in her throat, grateful to finally feel his slightly chapped lips on hers again. Their last kiss had given her several restless nights of tossing and turning as she’d relived it over and over again, gnawing like a puppy on a chew toy at the thought of where it might have led if Max’s summons to work hadn’t brought it to such an abrupt end. But now, finally, he was back where he had been before they’d been so rudely interrupted. Kissing her again.

  And, oh, God, what a kiss. She wouldn’t be surprised if her skin was smoking; Max was all hot lips, talented tongue and sharp teeth, and he knew exactly how to use them. He had mad skills, and it was clear he was very passionate about the way they were applied.

  Never in her life, in fact, had Harper been kissed with so much passion, and she surged against his hold as she tried to get closer, closer.

  He merely pressed their hands, their arms, tighter to the wall and nipped her bottom lip, tugging on it with his teeth. But then he moved in and bent his knees to press that hard body against her softer one. His chest was a hot wall flattening her breasts, his thighs a muscular cage imprisoning her hips. And between those thighs, the rigid length of his penis nudged her stomach.

  She tried to lift onto her tiptoes, but he leaned harder against her. Letting her bottom lip slide through his teeth, he moved his mouth to her ear, lightly biting her lobe.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he demanded, and the assured as-if-we-need-to-ask rasp in his voice tightened her nipples into painful points.

  You are.

  No, no, no! That was just too politically incorrect for words. Forcing a coolness into her voice she was light-years from feeling, she willed her muscles to relax. “Seriously?”

  “As a toxic spill, sweetheart.” His warm breath hitting the whorls of her ear sent a chilly wash of goose bumps racing down her arms, her legs. Then he moved his mouth to the sensitive spot behind her ear and touched it with his tongue.

  She shivered, and he said again in that twenty-grit voice, “Who’s in charge, Harper?”

  “Well, I suppooose that would be you,” she acceded slowly with a manufactured reluctance she hoped would give the impression she hadn’t just caved like a cheap suitcase. “It is your birthday, after all.”

  She felt his lips curl up against her skin. “That’s right, baby, and you’re my present. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Well, not in those exact words.”

  “But that was the general
message, yeah?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “You’re my prez, and I’m going to unwrap you. Real. Slow.”

  Her sex clenched deep between her legs. She had a feeling she could really get into this dominance thing.

  Bending his knees deeper, he dragged his erection downward until it finally bumped the sensitive cleft at the juncture of her thighs. They both sucked in a sharp breath, and the feel of him sliding over that sweet spot, even through their clothes, set off a whole series of miniclenches.

  With a rough sound, Max released her hands, plunged his into her curls and held her head tipped back as he kissed her with long, hot, thorough precision. His hips slowly oscillated, and his hard-on rubbing against her set up a firestorm of friction.

  When he pulled back to stare down at her with hot eyes, his breath soughed in and out of his lungs. “I love your hair,” he said. “Love the way it wraps around my fingers like something alive. I want to see it wrapped around my—” Cutting himself off, he shook his head.

  But oh, boy. Her imagination had no problem taking it from there.

  He kissed the side of her neck near her racer-backed sheath’s scooped neckline. “This has been driving me crazy ever since I laid eyes on this dress,” he said, his free hand sliding down the exposed rose-gold zipper that ran the length of her side from the deeply cut-in arm hole to the several-inches-above-her-knee hemline. He nipped her bare shoulder, then licked the small hurt he’d caused. “Two zipper heads, baby. Gives a guy twice the options.”

  Slowly, he stroked his hand in a return journey up the long zipper. As his fingers slid over her hip, they stretched to fondle her butt, the pads of his fingertips pressing into its resilient fullness. His thumb provided the same service to the side of her breast on his way past that.

  “Where to start?” he growled. “Down from the top?” Grasping the zipper tab between his finger and thumb, he slowly lowered it a miserly couple of dozen teeth, then pulled it back up. Unzipped it and zipped it. With each pass, his palm brushed her breast’s outer fullness, and the heel of his hand grazed her nipple, which promptly puckered up even tighter than it already was.

  A small, needy sound escaped her throat, and he pressed his erection harder against her.

  “You like that?” But he removed his hand. “There’s still that up-from-the-bottom option to consider.” He reached down to grasp the other zipper tab and pulled it up, one inch, two, turning the five-inch slit she’d created earlier into a seven-inch one. His hand snaked beneath the opening to wrap around the back of her thigh and tugged her leg up as far as the narrow opening would allow.

  Which wasn’t nearly far enough. Harper’s panties had been steadily dampening beneath his red-hot attentions; now suddenly they were mortifyingly wet. “Max, please.”

  His callused fingertips rasped over her skin as he slid his hand out from under her skirt. He reached to lower the top zipper a fraction of an inch at a time. “What do you want me to do, Harper?”

  “Tear off the damn wrappings, already!” she said between her teeth.

  Pushing back, he laughed. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he said, still grinning.

  And yanked the zipper down.

  * * *

  IT RAN INTO the still-raised bottom tab.

  “Shit.” Max had been on a roll until he forgot about zipping the side slit closed so he could unfasten the upper zipper in one fell swoop. Harper’s dress sagged open, but between its racer-back top, which meant the dress had to be pulled off over her head, and the spot where the bottom of her dress was still connected, it only afforded him a stingy view of the pretty taupe-and-black bra and panty set beneath it—and only a slightly less stingy portion of her even prettier skin.

  “Suave, indeed,” he muttered, squatting cautiously around his raging hard-on to rectify his mistake.

  Above him, Harper chortled, making his hands still at their task. He looked up at her.

  She still leaned against the door, fingers splayed against the panels on either side of her hips. Her goldy-green eyes were slumberous as she returned his look, and her full lips, rosy from his kisses, quirked up in a slight smile. “You know what, Max?” she said when his eyes met hers. “I really like you. You are such a straightforward real guy.”

  His heart smacked up against his sternum with such force he was surprised she couldn’t hear it go Bam! like that TV chef guy. “Yeah? I really like you, too.” He swallowed a snort—but just barely. Because, really. Understate much?

  Without looking away, he fixed the zipper issue, and her dress sagged open farther. He trailed a hand up her bare leg as he rose, stepping into her space the second he regained his full height. Grasping her thigh, he hooked it over his hip.

  And suddenly he was back where he’d left off, his dick firmly nestled against the heated nest between her legs. “Would it be too straightforward to tell you I’d really, really like to get you naked?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I’m standing here in a dress that’s half-off. You’re fully dressed. It seems a little one-sided to me. You plan on getting naked, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She reached for the top button on his shirt and slid it free of its buttonhole. “Then I’m all over the idea.”

  “Excellent.”

  Her lips curled up at the corners. “You’re a man of few words, aren’t you, Bradshaw?”

  “Yep.” He bent his head to kiss the side of her neck as she made fast work of the rest of his buttons. “I can think of a better use for my mouth than talking.”

  His shirtfront separated, the two sides falling free, and Harper’s hands slid beneath the material. Stroking them up his chest and over his shoulders, she pushed at the fabric and the shirt fell down his arms.

  Then she bent her head and placed a kiss over his heart.

  He sucked in a breath, but before he could start stripping her, she reached a finger to his nipple.

  “You do have a nipple ring,” she breathed, gingerly touching the small loop half hidden beneath the fan of hair on his chest. “I thought I saw one that day you played basketball on the skin team at the Village. But when we took the boys swimming at the inn I thought it must have been my imagination. You didn’t have one then.”

  He shrugged. “I had it pierced when I first joined the Marines—and during those years I wore it all the time. These days it depends on my mood. I figured my birthday was a good day for it.” He studied her. “If you hate it, I can take it out.”

  “I don’t hate it. I just don’t want to think too closely about what it took to get it where it is now.” She hunched her shoulders as if protecting her own nipples.

  She glanced up at him. “Still, I kind of appreciate the unexpected mystery of it. I like the fact that a guy as quiet as you has this secret thing going on beneath his clothes.

  “Sweetheart, right this minute I’ve got all kinds of secrets going on beneath my duds.”

  “Oh, God, tell me you didn’t pierce your...you know!”

  “My you know?” The cartoon lightbulb went off over his head, and he stared at her, horrified. “My dick? Holy shit, Harper—no!” He did a little hunching of his own. “I think I just lost my hard-on.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “You so did not.”

  He rocked against her. “I easily coulda, though. Never mention that again.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. Who knew a woman could pack so much irony into one eyebrow and a lopsided little smile?

  He trailed the backs of his fingers down Harper’s bared side. “What do you say we peel you out of this dress?”

  She raised her arms over her head, the bangles jingling as they dropped down her arm, and he pulled the khaki dress off over her head. The neckline tugged her curls straight, but they sprang back a little wilder than before as soon as the dress cleared it.

  With the garment still clutched in his fist, he took a step back to get the full effect of Harper in her bra and skimpy panties. And his breath left his
lungs.

  “God,” he murmured when he finally remembered to inhale. He rubbed at his chest. “Look at you.”

  She was so damn beautiful, with her warm, burnished skin, her clear eyes and healthy curls. Her breasts, round and ripe as peaches, rose out of the black-embroidered taupe bra, her waist dipped in before flaring into womanly hips. And, oh, God. Stepping up, he slipped his hands under her matching panties over the full curve of her ass, spreading his fingers to clasp the lushness of it. “You must know you’re gorgeous.”

  She flashed him that wide, white-toothed, flash-of-pink-gums smile that was so bighearted it narrowed her eyes into crescents. “You think so?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I think you’re gorgeous, too.” She scratched her nails through his chest hair, gave his adorned nipple a whisk of her thumb and a cautious tug of his ring that had his cock ready to rumble. Then she ran a hand down his abs, following the stripe of hair that disappeared beneath his slacks. She reached for his waistband. “Aren’t we fortunate to be such pretty people?”

  Having no idea what to say to that since he was nowhere in her league looks-wise, Max swept her up before she could unfasten his pants. She yelped and clutched his neck.

  “Let’s take this to my bedroom,” he said roughly.

  “Ooh.” She wiggled her butt. “Good idea.”

  He looked down at her. “You have no idea all the things I want to do to you, do you?” he demanded in a low voice. If she did, she might be gone so fast he wouldn’t see her through the trail of dust she left in her wake.

  Her eyes went heavy-lidded, and she tightened her hold around his neck. “Maybe not. But I do know I can hardly wait to find out.”

  He bit out a short, succinct word and took the stairs two at a time up to his room, hoping like hell he could hold it together long enough to do even a fraction of the things he’d fantasized doing.

  Carrying her to the bed, he bent a knee into the pillow top and laid her on the mattress. Following her down to lie atop her, he pushed up to take his weight off her chest and spread his thighs on either side of hers. Then he buried his hands back in all those clingy curls. And kissed her again.